i/Jt.  - 


DOCTOR   JOHNS: 

BEING 

A    NARRATIVE 

OF   CERTAIN   EVENTS  IN  THE    LIFE   OF  AN 

ORTHODOX  MINISTER   OF 

CONNECTICUT. 


BY    THE    AUTHOR    OF 

MY    FARM    OF    EDGEWOOD.' 

•f:  ft     /  /O  ^        "Vl 


IN    TWO    VOLUMES. 
VOL.    I. 


NEW    YORK: 
CHARLES   SCRIBNER    AND    COMPANY. 

654  BROADWAY. 
1866. 


z 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  I860,  by 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER  AND  COMPANY, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Southern  District  o» 
New  York. 


1UVEKS1DE,    CAMBRIDGE  : 

STEREOTYPED     AND     PRIX TED     BY 
U.    0.    IIOlCiUTON    AND   COMPANY. 


DOCTOR    JOHNS. 


I. 

TN  the  summer  of  1812,  when  the  good  people  of 
-*-  Connecticut  were  feeling  uncommonly  bitter  about 
the  declaration  of  war  against  England,  and  were 
abusing  Mr.  Madison  in  the  roundest  terms,  there 
lived  in  the  town  of  Canterbury  a  fiery  old  gentleman, 
of  near  sixty  years,  and  a  sterling  Democrat,  who  took 
up  the  cudgels  bravely  for  the  Administration,  and 
stoutly  belabored  Governor  Roger  Griswold  for  his 
tardy  obedience  to  the  President  in  calling  out  the 
militia,  and  for  what  he  called  his  absurd  pretensions 
in  regard  to  State  sovereignty.  He  was  a  man,  too, 
who  meant  all  that  he  said,  and  gave  the  best  proof 
of  it  by  offering  his  military  services,  —  first  to  the 
Governor,  and  then  to  the  United  States  General  com 
manding  the  Department. 

Nor  was  he  wholly  unfitted:  he  was  erect,  stanch, 
well  knit  together,  and  had  served  with  immense  credit 
in  the  local  militia,  in  which  he  wore  the  title  of  Major. 


2  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

It  does  not  appear  that  his  offer  was  immediately  ac 
cepted  ;  but  the  following  season  he  was  invested  with 
the  command  of  a  company,  and  was  ordered  back 
and  forth  to  various  threatened  points  along  the  sea 
board.  His  home  affairs,  meantime,  were  left  in 
charge  of  his  son,  a  quiet  young  man  of  four-and- 
twenty,  who  for  three  years  had  been  stumbling  with 
a  very  reluctant  spirit  through  the  law-books  in  the 
Major's  office,  and  who  shared  neither  his  father's  ar 
dor  of  temperament  nor  his  political  opinions.  Eliza, 
a  daughter  of  twenty  summers,  acted  as  mistress  of 
the  house,  and  stood  in  place  of  mother  to  a  black- 
eyed  little  girl  of  thirteen,  —  the  Major's  daughter  by 
a  second  wife,  who  had  died  only  a  few  years  before. 

Notwithstanding  the  lack  of  political  sympathy,  there 
was  yet  a  strong  attachment  between  father  and  son. 
The  latter  admired  exceedingly  the  energy  and  full- 
souled  ardor  of  the  old  gentleman  ;  and  the  father, 
in  turn,  was  proud  of  the  calm,  meditative  habit  of 
mind  which  the  son  had  inherited  from  his  mother. 
"  There  is  metal  in  the  boy  to  make  a  judge  of,"  the 
Major  used  to  say.  And  when  Benjamin,  shortly  after 
his  graduation  at  one  of  the  lesser  New  England  col 
leges,  had  given  a  hint  of  his  possible  study  of  the 
ology,  the  Major  answered  with  a  "  Pooh  !  pooh  !  " 
which  disturbed  the  son  —  possibly  weighed  with  him 
—  more  than  the  longest  opposing  argument  could  have 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  3 

done.  The  manner  of  the  father  had  conveyed,  un 
wittingly  enough,  a  notion  of  absurdity  as  attaching 
to  the  lad's  engaging  in  such  sacred  studies,  which 
overwhelmed  him  with  a  sense  of  his  own  un worthi 
ness. 

The  Major,  like  all  sound  Democrats,  had  always 
been  an  ardent  admirer  of  Mr.  Jefferson  and  of  the 
French  political  school.  Benjamin  had  a  wholesome 
horror  of  both ;  not  so  much  from  any  intimate  knowl 
edge  of  their  theories,  as  by  reason  of  a  strong  re 
ligious  instinct,  which  had  been  developed  under  his 
mother's  counsels  into  a  rigid  and  exacting  Puritanism. 

The  first  wife  of  the  Major  had  left  behind  her  the 
reputation  of  "  a  saint."  It  was  not  undeserved :  her 
quiet,  constant  charities,  —  her  kindliness  of  look  and 
manner,  which  were  in  themselves  the  best  of  charities, 
—  a  gentle,  Christian  way  she  had  of  dealing  with  all 
the  vagrant  humors  of  her  husband,  —  and  the  con 
stancy  of  her  devotion  to  all  duties,  whether  religious 
or  domestic,  gave  her  better  claim  to  the  saintly  title 
than  most  who  wear  it.  The  Major  knew  this,  and 
was  very  proud  of  it.  "  If,"  he  was  accustomed  to 
say,  "  I  am  the  most  godless  man  in  the  parish,  my 
wife  is  the  most  godly  woman."  Yet  his  godlessness 
was,  after  all,  rather  outside  than  real ;  it  was  a  kind 
of  effrontery,  provoked  into  noisy  display  by  the  ex 
travagant  bigotries  of  those  about  him.  He  did  not 


4  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

believe  in  monopolies  of  opinion,  but  in  good  average 
dispersion  of  all  sorts  of  thinking.  On  one  occasion 
he  had  horrified  his  poor  wife  by  bringing  home  a  full 
set  of  Voltaire's  Works ;  but  having  reasoned  her  — 
or  fancying  he  had  —  into  a  belief  in  the  entire  harm- 
lessness  of  the  offending  books,  he  gratified  her  im 
mensely  by  placing  them  out  of  all  sight  and  reach  of 
the  boy  Benjamin. 

He  never  interfered  with  the  severe  home  course 
of  religious  instruction  entered  upon  by  the  mother. 
On  the  contrary,  he  said,  "  The  boy  will  need  it  all  as 
an  offset  to  the  bedevilments  that  will  overtake  him 
in  our  profession."  The  Major  had  a  very  consider 
able  country  practice,  and  had  been  twice  a  member 
of  the  Legislature. 

His  second  wife,  a  frivolous,  indolent  person,  who 
had  brought  him  a  handsome  dowry,  and  left  him  the 
pretty  black-eyed  Mabel,  never  held  equal  position 
with  the  first.  It  was  observed,  however,  with  some 
surprise,  that  under  the  sway  of  the  latter  he  was  more 
punctilious  and  regular  in  religious  observances  than 
before,  —  a  fact  which  the  shrewd  ones  explained  by 
his  old  doctrine  of  adjusting  averages. 

Benjamin,  Eliza,  and  Mabel,  —  each  in  their  way,  — 
waited  news  from  the  military  campaign  of  the  Major 
with  great  anxiety  ;  all  the  more  because  he  was  un 
derstood  to  be  a  severe  disciplinarian,  and  it  had  been 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  5 

rumored  in  the  parish  that  two  or  three  of  his  com 
pany,  of  rank  Federal  opinions,  had  vowed  they  would 
sooner  shoot  the  captain  than  any  foreign  enemy  of 
the  State.  The  Major,  however,  heard  no  guns  in 
either  front  or  rear  up  to  the  time  of  the  British  at 
tack  upon  the  borough  of  Stonington,  in  midsummer 
of  1814.  In  the  defence  here  he  was  very  active,  in 
connection  with  a  certain  artillery  force  that  had  come 
down  the  river  from  Norwich ;  and  although  the  attack 
of  the  British  Admiral  was  a  mere  feint,  yet  for  a 
while  there  was  a  very  lively  sprinkling  of  shot.  The 
people  of  the  little  borough  were  duly  frightened,  the 
Kamilies  seventy-four  gun-ship  of  his  Majesty  en 
joyed  an  excellent  opportunity  for  long-range  practice, 
and  the  militia  gave  an  honest  airing  to  their  patri 
otism.  The  Major  was  wholly  himself.  "  If  the  ras 
cals  would  only  attempt  a  landing ! "  said  he ;  and  as 
he  spoke,  a  fragment  of  shell  struck  his  sword-arm  at 
the  elbow.  The  wound  was  a  grievous  one,  and  the 
surgeon  in  attendance  declared  amputation  to  be 
necessary.  The  Major  combated  the  decision  for  a 
while,  but  loss  of  blood  weakened  his  firmness,  and 
the  operation  was  gone  through  with  very  bunglingly. 
Next  morning  a  country  wagon  was  procured  to  trans 
port  him  home.  The  drive  was  an  exceeding  rough 
one,  and  the  stump  fell  to  bleeding.  Most  men  would 
have  lain  by  for  a  day  or  two,  but  the  Major  insisted 


6  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

upon  pushing  on  for  Canterbury,  where  he  arrived 
late  at  night,  very  much  exhausted. 

The  country  physician  declared,  on  examination  next 
morning,  that  some  readjustment  of  the  amputated 
limb  was  necessary,  which  was  submitted  to  by  the 
Major  in  a  very  irritable  humor.  Friends  and  enemies 
of  the  wounded  man  were  all  kind  and  full  of  sym 
pathy.  Miss  Eliza  was  in  a  flutter  of  dreary  appre 
hension  that  rendered  her  incapable  of  doing  anything 
effectively.  Benjamin  was  as  tender  and  as  devoted 
as  a  woman.  The  wound  healed  in  due  time,  but  the 
Major  did  not  rally.  The  drain  upon  his  vitality  had 
been  too  great ;  he  fell  into  a  general  decline,  which 
within  a  fortnight  gave  promise  of  fatal  results.  The 
Major  met  the  truth  like  a  veteran  ;  he  arranged  his 
affairs,  by  the  aid  of  his  son,  with  a  great  show  of 
method, — closed  all  in  due  time;  and  when  he  felt 
his  breath  growing  short,  called  Benjamin,  and  like  a 
good  officer  gave  his  last  orders. 

"  Mabel,"  said  he,  "  is  provided  for ;  it  is  but  just 
that  her  mother's  property  should  be  settled  on  her; 
I  have  done  so.  For  yourself  and  Eliza,  you  will  have 
need  of  a  close  economy.  I  don't  think  you  '11  do  much 
at  law ;  you  once  thought  of  preaching ;  if  you  think 
so  now,  preach,  Benjamin  ;  there 's  something  in  it ; 
at  least  it 's  better  than  Fed  —  Federalism." 


DOCTOR   JOHNS.  1 

A  fit  of  coughing  seized  him  here,  from  which  he 
never  fairly  rallied.  Benjamin  took  his  hand  when  he 
grew  quiet,  and  prayed  silently,  while  the  Major  slipped 
off  the  roll  militant  forever. 


II. 

nnilE  funeral  was  appointed  for  the  second  clay 
-*-  thereafter.  The  house  was  set  in  order  for  the 
occasion.  Chairs  were  brought  in  from  the  neighbors. 

o  o 

A  little  table,  with  a  Bible  upon  it,  was  placed  in  the  en 
trance-way  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  that  all  might  hear 
what  the  clergyman  should  say.  The  body  lay  in  the 
parlor,  with  the  Major's  sword  and  cocked  hat  upon  the 
coffin  ;  and  the  old  gentleman's  face  had  never  worn 
an  air  of  so  much  dignity  as  it  wore  now.  Death  had 
refined  away  all  trace  of  his  irritable  humors,  of  his 
passionate,  hasty  speech.  It  looked  like  the  face  of  a 
good  man,  —  so  said  nine  out  of  ten  who  gazed  on  it 
that  day ;  yet  when  the  immediate  family  ca-ne  up  to 
take  their  last  glimpse,  —  the  two  girls  being  in  tears, 
—  in  that  dreary  half-hour  after  all  was  arranged,  and 
the  flocking-in  of  the  neighbors  was  waited  for,  Benja 
min,  as  calm  as  the  dead  face  below  him,  was  asking 
himself  if  the  poor  gentleman,  his  father,  had  not  gone 
away  to  a  place  of  torment.  lie  feared  it ;  nay,  was  he 
not  bound  to  believe  it  by  the  whole  force  of  his  educa 
tion  ?  and  his  heart,  in  that  hour,  made  only  a  feeble 


DOCTOR    JOHNS.  9 

revolt  against  the  belief.  In  the  very  presence  of  the 
ffrim  messenger  of  the  Eternal,  who  had  come  to  seal 

O  O 

the  books  and  close  the  account,  what  right  had  human 
affection  to  make  outcry  ?  Death  had  wrought  the 
work  given  him  to  do,  like  a  good  servant ;  had  not  he, 
too,  —  Benjamin,  —  a  duty  to  fulfill  ?  the  purposes  of 
Eternal  Justice  to  recognize,  to  sanction,  to  approve  ? 
In  the  exaltation  of  his  religious  sentiment  it  seemed 
to  him,  for  one  crazy  moment  at  least,  that  he  would  be 
justified  in  taking  his  place  at  the  little  table  where 
prayer  was  to  be  said,  and  in  setting  forth,  as  one  who 
knew  so  intimately  the  shortcomings  of  the  deceased, 
all  those  weaknesses  of  the  flesh  and  spirit  by  which 
the  Devil  had  triumphed,  and  in  warning  all  those  who 
came  to  his  burial  of  the  judgments  of  God  which 
would  surely  fall  on  them  as  on  him,  except  they  re 
pented  and  believed.  Was  he  not,  indeed,  commis 
sioned,  as  it  were,  by  the  lips  of  the  dead  man  to  "  cry 
aloud  and  spare  not "  ? 

Happily,  however,  the  officiating  clergyman  was  of  a 
more  even  temper,  and  he  said  what  little  he  had  to  say 
in  way  of  "  improvement  of  the  occasion  "  to  the  text 
of  "  Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not  judged." 

"  We  are  too  apt,"  said  he,  (and  he  was  now  addressing 
a  company  that  crowded  the  parlors  and  flowed  over 
into  the  yard  in  front,  where  the  men  stood  with  heads 
uncovered,)  "  we  are  too  apt  to  measure  a  man's  posi- 


10  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

tion  in  the  eye  of  God,  and  to  assign  him  his  rank  in 
the  future,  by  his  conformity  to  the  external  observ 
ances  of  religion,  —  not  remembering,  in  our  compla 
cency,  that  we  see  differently  from  those  who  look  on 
from  beyond  the  world,  and  that  there  are  mysterious 
and  secret  relations  of  God  with  the  conscience  of 
every  man,  which  we  cannot  measure  or  adjust.  Let 
us  hope  that  our  deceased  friend  profited  by  such  to  in 
sure  his  entrance  into  the  Eternal  City,  whose  streets 
are  of  gold,  and  the  Lamb  the  light  thereof." 

The  listeners  said  "  Amen "  to  this  in  their  hearts  ; 
but  the  son,  still  exalted  by  the  fervor  of  that  new  pur 
pose  which  he  had  formed  by  the  father's  death-bed, 
and  riveted  more  surely  as  he  looked  last  on  his  face, 
asked  himself,  if  the  old  preacher  had  not  allowed  a 
kindly  worldly  prudence  to  blunt  the  sharpness  of  the 
Word.  "  Why  not  tell  these  friendly  mourners," 
thought  he,  "  that  they  may  well  shed  their  bitterest 
tears,  for  that  this  old  man  they  mourn  over  has  lived 
the  life  of  the  ungodly,  has  neglected  all  the  appointed 
means  of  escape,  has  died  the  death  of  the  unrighteous, 
and  must  surely  suffer  the  pains  of  the  second  death  ? 
Should  not  the  swift  warning  be  brought  home  to  me 
and  to  them  ?  " 

Sudden  contact  with  Death  had  refined  all  his  old 
religious  impressions  to  an  intensity  that  shaped  itself 
into  a  flaming  sword  of  retribution.  All  this,  however, 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  11 

as  yet,  lay  within  his  own  mind,  not  beating  down  his 
natural  affection,  or  his  grief,  but  struggling  for  recon 
cilement  with  them  ;  no  outward  expression,  even  to 
those  who  clung  to  him  so  nearly,  revealed  it.  The 
memorial-stone  which  he  placed  over  his  father's  grave, 
and  which  possibly  is  standing  now  within  the  old 
church-yard  of  Canterbury,  bore  only  this :  — 

HERE   LIES  THE   BODY   OF 

REUBEN  JOHNS. 

A   GOOD   HUSBAND  ;  A  KIND  FATHER; 

A  PATRIOT,  WHO  DIED   FOR  HIS  COUNTRY, 

IST  SEPT.,  1814. 

And  a  little  below,  — 

"Christ  died  for  all." 


I 


III. 

T  will  be  no  contravention  of  the  truth  of  this  epi 
taph,  to  say  that  the  Major  had  been  always  a  most 
miserable  manager  of  his  private  business  affairs  ;  it  is 
even  doubtful  if  the  kindest  fathers  and  best  husbands 
are  not  apt  to  be.  Certain  it  is,  that,  when  Benjamin 
came  to  examine,  in  connection  with  a  village  attorney, 
(for  the  son  had  inherited  the  father's  inaccessibility  to 
"  profit  and  loss  "  statements,)  such  loose  accounts  as 
the  Major  had  left,  it  was  found  that  the  poor  gentle 
man  had  lived  up  so  closely  to  his  income  —  whether 
as  lawyer  or  military  chieftain  —  as  to  leave  his  little 
home  property  subject  to  the  payment  of  a  good  many 
outstanding  debts.  There  appeared,  indeed,  a  great 
parade  of  ledgers  and  day-books  and  statements  of  ac 
counts  ;  but  it  is  by  no  means  unusual  for  those  who  are 
careless  or  ignorant  of  business  system  to  make  a  pretty 
show  of  the  requisite  implements,  and  to  confuse  them 
selves  in  a  pleasant  way  with  the  intricacy  of  their 
own  figures. 

The  Major  sinned  pretty  largely  in  this  way ;  so  that 
it  was  plain,  that,  after  the  sale  of  all  his  available 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  13 

effects,  including  the  library  with  its  inhibited  Voltaire, 
there  would  remain  only  enough  to  secure  a  respecta 
ble  maintenance  for  Miss  Eliza.  To  this  end,  Benja 
min  determined  at  once  that  the  residue  of  the  estate 
should  be  settled  upon  her,  —  reserving  only  so  much 
as  would  comfortably  maintain  him  during  a  three 
years'  course  of  battling  with  Theology. 

The  younger  sister,  Mabel,  —  as  has  already  been 
intimated,  —  was  provided  for  by  an  interest  in  certain 
distinct  and  dividend-bearing  securities,  which  —  to  the 
honor  of  the  Major  —  had  never  been  submitted  to  the 
alembic  of  his  figures  and  "  accounts  current."  She 
was  placed  at  a  school  where  she  accomplished  herself 
for  three  or  four  years ;  and  put  the  seal  to  her  accom 
plishments  by  marrying  very  suddenly,  and  without 
family  consultation,  —  under  which  she  usually  proved 
restive,  —  a  young  fellow,  who  by  aid  of  her  snug  for 
tune  succeeded  in  establishing  himself  in  a  thriving 
business ;  and  as  early  as  the  year  1820,  Mabel,  under 
her  new  name  of  Mrs.  Brindlock,  was  the  mistress  of 
one  of  those  fine  merchant-palaces  at  the  lower  end  of 
Greenwich  Street,  in  New  York  city,  which  com 
manded  a  view  of  the  elegant  Battery,  and  were  the 
admiration  of  all  country  visitors. 

Benjamin  had  needed  only  his  father's  hint,  (for 
which  he  was  ever  grateful,)  and  the  solemn  scenes  of 
his  death  and  burial,  to  lead  him  to  an  entire  remmcia- 


14  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

tion  of  his  law-craft  and  to  an  engagement  in  fervid 
study  for  the  ministry.  This  he  prosecuted  at  first  with 
a  devout  old  gentleman  who  had  been  a  pupil  of  Presi 
dent  Edwards  ;  and  this  private  reading  was  finished 
off  by  a  course  at  Andover.  His  studies  completed,  he 
was  licensed  to  preach ;  and  not  long  after,  without 
any  consideration  of  what  the  future  of  this  world 
might  have  in  store  for  him,  he  committed  the  error 
which  so  many  grave  and  serious  men  are  prone  to 
commit,  —  that  is  to  say,  he  married  hastily,  after  only 
two  or  three  months  of  solemn  courtship,  a  charming 
girl  of  nineteen,  whose  only  idea  of  meeting  the  diffi 
culties  of  this  life  was  to  love  her  dear  Benjamin  with 
her  whole  heart,  and  to  keep  the  parlor  dusted. 

But  unfortunately  there  was  no  parlor  to  dust.  The 
consequence  was  that  the  newly  married  couple  were 
compelled  to  establish  a  temporary  home  upon  the  sec 
ond  floor  of  the  comfortable  house  of  Mr.  Handby,  a 
well-to-do  farmer,  and  the  father  of  the  bride.  Here 
the  new  clergyman  devoted  himself  resolutely  to  Tillot- 
son,  to  Edwards,  to  John  Newton,  and  in  the  intervals 
prepared  some  score  or  more  of  sermons,  —  to  all 
which  Mrs.  Johns  devoutly  listening  in  their  fresh  state, 
without  ever  a  wink,  entered  upon  the  conscientious 
duties  of  a  wife.  From  time  to  time  some  old  clergy 
man  of  the  neighborhood  would  ask  the  Major's  son  to 
assist  him  in  the  Sabbath  services  ;  and  at  rarer  inter- 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  15 

vals  the  Reverend  Mr.  Johns  was  invited  to  some  far 
away  township  where  the  illness  or  absence  of  the  set 
tled  minister  might  keep  the  new  licentiate  for  four  or 
five  weeks ;  on  which  occasions  the  late  Miss  Handby 
was  most  zealous  in  preparing  a  world  of  comforts  for 
the  journey,  and  invariably  followed  him  up  with  one  or 
two  double  letters,  "hoping  her  dear  Benjamin  was 
careful  to  wear  the  muffler  which  his  Rachel  had  knit 
for  him,  and  not  to  expose  his  precious  throat,"  —  or 
"  longing  for  that  quiet  home  of  their  own,  which  would 
not  make  necessary  these  cruel  separations,  and  where 
she  should  have  the  uninterrupted  society  of  her  dear 
Benjamin." 

To  all  such  the  conscientious  husband  dutifully  re 
plied,  "  thankful  for  his  Rachel's  expression  of  interest 
in  such  a  sinner  as  himself,  and  trusting  that  she  would 
not  forget  that  health  or  the  comforts  of  this  world  were 
but  of  comparatively  small  importance,  since  this  was 
'  not  our  abiding  city.'  He  trusted,  too,  that  she  would 
not  allow  the  transitory  affections  of  this  life,  however 
dear  they  might  be,  to  engross  her  to  the  neglect  of  those 
which  were  far  more  important.  He  permitted  himself 
to  hope  that  Rachel "  (he  was  chary  of  endearing  epi 
thets)  "  would  not  murmur  against  the  dispensations  of 
Providence,  and  would  be  content  with  whatever  He 
might  provide  ;  and  hoping  that  Mr.  Handby  and  fam 
ily  were  in  their  usual  health,  remained  her  Christian 
friend  and  devoted  husband,  Benjamin  Johns." 


16  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

It  so  happened,  that,  after  this  discursive  life  had 
lasted  for  some  ten  months,  a  serious  difficulty  arose 
between  the  clergyman  and  the  parish  of  the  neighbor 
ing  town  of  Ashfield.  The  person  who  served  as  the 
spiritual  director  of  the  people  was  suspected  of  leaning 
strongly  toward  some  current  heresy  of  the  day ;  and 
the  suspicion  being  once  set  on  foot,  there  was  not  a 
sermon  the  poor  man  could  preach  but  some  quidnunc 
of  the  parish  snuffed  somewhere  in  it  the  taint  of  the 
false  doctrine.  The  due  convocations  and  committees 
of  inquiry  followed  sharply  after,  and  the  incumbent 
received  his  dismissal  in  due  form  at  the  hands  of  some 
"  brother  in  the  bonds  of  the  Gospel." 

A  few  weeks  later,  Giles  Elderkin  of  Ashfield,  "  So 
ciety's  Committee,"  invited,  by  letter,  the  Reverend 
Benjamin  Johns  to  come  and  "  fill  their  pulpit  the  fol 
lowing  Lord's  day  "  ;  and  added,  —  "  If  you  conclude 
to  preach  for  us,  I  shall  be  pleased  to  have  you  put  up 
at  my  house  over  the  Sabbath." 

"  There  you  are,"  said  Mr.  Handby,  when  the  matter 
was  announced  in  family  conclave,  —  "just  the  man  for 
them.  They  like  sober,  solid  preaching  in  Ashfield." 

"  I  call  it  real  providential,"  said  Mrs.  Handby  ;  "  fust- 
rate  folks,  and  't  a'n't  a  long  drive  over  for  Rachel." 

Little  Mrs.  Johns  looked  upon  the  grave,  earnest 
face  of  her  husband  with  delight  and  pride,  but  said 
nothing. 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  17 

"  I  know  Squire  Elderkin,"  says  Mr.  Handby,  medi 
tatively,  —  "a  clever  man,  and  a  forehanded  man,  — 
very.  It 's  a  rich  parish,  son-in-law ;  they  ought  to  do 
well  by  you." 

"  I  don't  like,"  says  Mr.  Johns,  "  to  look  at  what  may 
become  my  spiritual  duty  in  that  light." 

"  I  would  n't,"  returned  Mr.  Handby :  "  but  when 
you  are  as  old  as  I  am,  son-in-law,  you  '11  know  that  we 
have  to  keep  a  kind  of  side  look  upon  the  good  things 
of  this  world,  —  else  we  should  n't  be  placed  in  it." 

"  He  heareth  the  young  ravens  when  they  cry,"  said 
the  minister,  gravely. 

"  Just  it,"  says  Mr.  Handby  ;  "  but  I  don't  want  your 
young  ravens  to  be  crying." 

At  which  Rachel,  with  the  slightest  possible  suffusion 
of  color,  and  a  pretty  affectation  of  horror,  said,  — 

"  Now,  papa ! " 

There  was  an  interruption  here,  and  the  conclave 
broke  up  ;  but  Rachel,  stepping  briskly  to  the  place 
she  loved  so  well,  beside  the  minister,  said,  softly,  — 

"  J  hope  you  '11  go,  Benjamin  ;  and  do,  please,  preach 
that  beautiful  sermon  on  Revelations." 


IV. 


rilHIRTY  or  forty  years  ago  there  lay  scattered  about 
-*-  over  Southern  New  England  a  great  many  quiet  in 
land  towns,  numbering  from  a  thousand  to  two  or  three 
thousand  inhabitants,  which  boasted  a  little  old-fash 
ioned  "  society"  of  their  own,  —  which  had  their  impor 
tant  men  who  were  heirs  to  some  snug  country  property, 
and  their  gambrel-roofed  houses  odorous  with  traditions 
of  old-time  visits  by  some  worthies  of  the  Colonial 
period,  or  of  the  Revolution.  The  good,  prim  dames, 
in  starched  caps  and  spectacles,  who  presided  over  such 
houses,  were  proud  of  their  tidy  parlors,  —  of  their  old 
India  china,  —  of  their  beds  of  thyme  and  sage  in  the 
garden,  —  of  their  big  Family  Bible  with  brazen  clasps, 
—  and,  most  times,  of  their  minister. 

One  Orthodox  Congregational  Society  extended  its 
benignant  patronage  over  all  the  people  of  such  town  ; 
or,  if  a  stray  Episcopalian  or  Seven-Day  Baptist  were 
here  and  there  living  under  the  wing  of  the  parish, 
they  were  regarded  with  a  serene  and  stately  gravity, 
as  necessary  exceptions  to  the  law  of  Divine  Provi- 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  19 

dence,  —  like  scattered  instances  of  red  hair  or  of  bow- 
legs  in  otherwise  well-favored  families. 

There  were  no  wires  stretching  over  the  country  to 
shock  the  nerves  of  the  good  gossips  with  the  thought 
that  their  neighbors  knew  more  than  they.  There  were 
no  heathenisms  of  the  cities,  no  tenpins,  no  traveling 
circus,  no  progressive  young  men  of  heretical  tenden 
cies.  Such  towns  were  as  quiet  as  a  sheepfold.  Saun 
tering  down  their  broad  central  street,  along  which  all 
the  houses  were  clustered  with  a  somewhat  dreary  uni 
formity  of  aspect,  one  might  of  a  summer's  day  hear  the 
nimble  of  the  town  mill  in  some  adjoining  valley,  busy 
with  the  town  grist ;  in  autumn,  the  flip-flap  of  the 
flails  came  pulsing  on  the  ear  from  half  a  score  of  wide- 
open  barns  that  yawned  with  plenty  ;  and  in  winter,  the 
clang  of  axes  on  the  near  hills  smote  sharply  upon  the 
frosty  stillness,  and  would  be  straightway  followed  by 
the  booming  crash  of  some  great  tree. 

But  civilization  and  the  railways  have  debauched  all 
such  quiet,  stately,  steady  towns.  There  are  none  of 
them  left.  If  the  iron  cordon  of  travel,  by  a  little  diver 
gence,  has  spared  their  quietude,  leaving  them  stranded 
upon  a  beach  where  the  tide  of  active  business  never 
flows,  all  their  dignities  are  gone.  The  men  of  fore 
sight  and  enterprise  have  drifted  away  to  new  centers 
of  influence.  The  bustling  dames  in  starched  caps 
have  gone  down  childless  to  their  graves,  or,  disgusted 


20  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

with  gossip  at  second  hand,  have  sought  more  immedi 
ate  contact  with  the  world.  A  German  tailor,  may  be, 
has  hung  out  his  sign  over  the  door  of  some  moulder 
ing  mansion,  where,  in  other  days,  a  doughty  judge  of 
the  county  court,  with  a  great  raft  of  children,  kept 
his  honors  and  his  family  warm.  A  slatternly  "  carry 
all,"  with  a  driver  who  reeks  of  bad  spirit,  keeps  up 
uneasy  communication  with  the  outside  world,  travers 
ing  twice  or  three  times  a  day  the  league  of  drive  which 
lies  between  the  post-office  and  the  railway-station.  A 
few  iron-pated  farmers,  and  a  few  gentlemen  of  Irish 
extraction  who  keep  tavern  and  stores,  divide  among 
themselves  the  official  honors  of  the  town. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  people  maintain  their 
old  thrift  and  importance  by  actual  contact  with  some 
great  thoroughfare  of  travel,  their  old  quietude  is  ex 
ploded  ;  a  mushroom  station  has  sprung  up  ;  mush 
room  villas  flank  all  the  hills  ;  the  girls  wear  mush 
room  hats.  A  turreted  monster  of  a  chapel  from 
some  flamboyant  tower  bellows  out  its  Sunday  warn 
ing  to  a  new  set  of  church-goers.  There  is  a  little 
coterie  of  "  superior  intelligences,"  who  talk  of  the 
humanities,  and  diffuse  their  airy  rationalism  over  here 
and  there  a  circle  of  the  progressive  town.  Even  the 
meeting-house,  which  was  the  great  congregational 
center  of  the  town  religion,  has  lost  its  venerable  air, 
taken  off  by  some  new  fancy  of  variegated  painting. 


DOCTOR   JOHNS.  21 

The  high,  square  pews  are  turned  into  low-backed 
seats,  that  flame  on  a  summer  Sunday  with  such  gor 
geous  millinery  as  would  have  shocked  the  grave  people 
of  thirty  years  ago.  The  deep  bass  note  which  once 
pealed  from  the  belfry  with  a  solemn  and  solitary  dig 
nity  of  sound  has  now  lost  it  all  amid  the  jangle  of 
a  half-dozen  bells  of  lighter  and  airier  twang.  Even 
the  parson  himself  will  not  be  that  grave  man  of 
stately  bearing,  who  met  the  rarest  fun  only  benig- 
nantly,  and  to  whom  all  the  villagers  bowed ;  but  some 
new  creature  full  of  the  logic  of  the  schools  and  the 
latest  conventionalisms  of  manner.  The  homespun 
disciples  of  other  days  would  be  brought  grievously 
to  the  blush,  if  some  deep  note  of  the  old  bell  should 
suddenly  summon  them  to  the  presence  of  so  fine 
a  teacher,  encompassed  with  such  pretty  appliances 
of  upholstery ;  and,  counting  their  chances  better  in 
the  strait  path  they  knew  on  uncarpeted  floors  and 
between  high  pews,  they  would  slink  back  into  their 
graves  content,  —  all  the  more  content,  perhaps,  if 
they  should  listen  to  the  service  of  the  new  teacher, 
and,  in  their  common-sense  way,  reckon  what  chance 
the  dapper  talker  might  have  —  as  compared  with  the 
solemn  soberness  of  the  old  pastor  —  in  opening  the 
ponderous  doors  for  them  upon  the  courts  above. 

Into  this  metamorphosed  condition  the  town  of  Ash- 
field  has  possibly  fallen  in  these  latter  days ;  but  in 


22  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

the  good  year  1819,  when  the  Reverend  Benjamin 
Johns  was  invited  for  the  first  time  to  fill  its  pulpit 
of  an  early  autumn  Sunday,  it  was  still  in  possession 
of  all  its  palmy  quietude  and  of  its  ancient  cheery 
importance.  And  to  that  old  date  we  will  now  trans 
fer  ourselves. 


V. 

other  day  the  stage-coach  comes  into  Ash- 
field  from  the  north,  on  the  Hartford  turnpike,  and 
rumbles  through  the  main  street  of  the  town,  seesaw 
ing  upon  jts  leathern  thoroughbraces.  Just  where  the 
pike  forks  into  the  main  northern  road,  and  where  the 
scattered  farm-houses  begin  to  group  more  thickly  along 
the  way,  the  country  Jehu  prepares  for  a  triumphant 
entry  by  giving  a  long,  clean  cut  to  the  lead-horses, 
and  two  or  three  shortened,  sharp  blows  with  his 
doubled  lash  to  those  upon  the  wheel ;  then,  moisten 
ing  his  lip,  he  disengages  the  tin  horn  from  its  socket, 
and,  with  one  more  spirited  "  chirrup "  to  his  team  and  a 
putulant  flirt  of  the  lines,  he  gives  out,  with  tremendous 
explosive  efforts,  a  series  of  blasts  that  are  heard  all 
down  the  street.  Here  and  there  a  blind  is  coyly 
opened,  and  some  old  dame  in  ruffled  cap  peers  out, 
or  some  stout  wench  at  a  backdoor  stands  gazing 
with  her  arms  a-kimbo.  The  horn  rattles  back  into 
its  socket  again  ;  the  lines  are  tightened,  and  the  long 
lash  smacks  once  more  around  the  reeking  flanks  of 
the  leaders.  Yonder,  in  his  sooty  shop,  stands  the 


24  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

smith,  keeping  up  with  his  elbow  a  lazy  sway  upon  his 
bellows,  while  he  looks  admiringly  over  coach  and 
team,  and  gives  an  inquisitive  glance  at  the  nigh  lead 
er's  foot,  that  he  shod  only  yesterday.  A  flock  of 
geese,  startled  from  a  mud-puddle  through  which  the 
coach  dashes  on,  rush  away  with  outstretched  necks, 
and  wings  at  their  widest,  and  a  great  uproar  of  gab 
ble.  Two  school-girls  —  home  for  the  nooning  —  are 
idling  over  a  gateway,  half  swinging,  half  musing, 
gazing  intently.  There  is  a  gambrel-roofed  mansion, 
with  a  balustrade  along  its  upper  pitch,  and  quaint 
ogees  of  ancient  joinery  over  the  hall-door ;  and 
through  the  cleanly  scrubbed  parlor-windows  is  to  be 
seen  a  prim  dame,  who  turns  one  spectacled  glance 
upon  the  passing  coach,  and  then  resumes  her  sewing. 
There  are  red  houses,  with  their  corners  and  barge- 
boards  dressed  off  with  white,  and  on  the  door-step 
of  one  a  green  tub  that  flames  with  a  great  pink  hy 
drangea.  Scattered  along  the  way  are  huge  ashes,  syca 
mores,  elms,  in  somewhat  devious  line  ;  and  from  a 
pendent  bough  of  one  of  these  last  a  trio  of  school 
boys  are  seeking  to  beat  down  the  swaying  nest  of 
an  oriole  with  a  convergent  fire  of  pebbles. 

The  coach  flounders  on,  —  past  an  old  house  with 
stone  chimney,  (on  which  an  old  date  stands  coarsely 
cut,)  and  with  front  door  divided  down  its  middle,  with 
a  huge  brazen  knocker  upon  its  right  half,  —  with  two 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  25 

St.  Luke's  crosses  in  its  lower  panels,  and  two  dia 
mond-shaped  "lights"  above.  Hereabout  the  street 
widens  into  what  seems  a  common ;  and  not  far  be 
low,  sitting  squarely  and  authoritatively  in  the  mid 
dle  of  the  common,  is  the  red-roofed  meeting-house, 
with  tall  spire,  and  in  its  shadow  the  humble  belfry 
of  the  town  academy.  Opposite  these  there  comes 
into  the  main  street  a  highway  from  the  east;  and 
upon  one  of  the  corners  thus  formed  stands  the  Eagle 
Tavern,  its  sign  creaking  appetizingly  on  a  branch  of 
an  overhanging  sycamore,  under  which  the  stage 
coach  dashes  up  to  the  tavern-door,  to  unlade  its  pas 
sengers  for  dinner,  and  to  find  a  fresh  relay  of  horses. 
Upon  the  opposite  corner  is  the  country  store  of 
Abner  Tew,  Esq.,  postmaster  during  the  successive 
administrations  of  Mr.  Madison  and  Mr.  Monroe.  He 
comes  out  presently  from  his  shop-door,  which  is 
divided  horizontally,  the  upper  half  being  open  in  all 
ordinary  weathers ;  and  the  lower  half,  as  he  closes 
it  after  him,  gives  a  warning  jingle  to  a  little  bell  with 
in.  A  spare,  short,  hatchet-faced  man  is  Abner  Tew, 
who  walks  over  with  a  prompt  business-step  to  re 
ceive  a  leathern  pouch  from  the  stage-driver.  He 
returns  with  it,  —  a  few  eager  towns-people  following 
upon  his  steps,  —  reenters  his  shop,  and  delivers 
the  pouch  within  a  glazed  door  in  the  corner,  where 
the  postmistress  ex  officio,  Mrs.  Abner  Tew,  a  tall, 


26  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

gaunt  woman  in  black  bombazine  and  spectacles,  pro 
ceeds  to  assort  the  Ashfield  mail.  By  reason  of  this 
division  of  duties,  the  shop  is  known  familiarly  as  the 
shop  of  "  the  Tew  partners." 

Among  the  waiting  expectants  who  loiter  about 
among  the  sugar-barrels  of  the  grocery  department, 
there  presently  appears  —  with  a  new  tinkle  of  the 
little  bell  —  a  stout,  ruddy  man,  just  past  middle  age, 
in  broad-brimmed  white  beaver  and  sober  homespun 
suit,  who  is  met  with  a  deferential  "  Good  day,  Squire," 
from  one  and  another,  as  he  falls  successively  into 
short  parley  with  them.  A  self-possessed,  cheery  man, 
who  has  strong  opinions,  and  does  not  fear  to  express 
them  ;  Selectman  for  the  last  eight  years,  who  has 
presided  in  town-meeting  time  out  of  mind ;  mem 
ber  of  the  Legislature,  and  once  a  Senator  for  the 
district.  This  was  Giles  Elderkin,  Esq.,  the  gentle 
man  who.  on  behalf  of  the  Ecclesiastical  Society,  had 
conducted  the  correspondence  with  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Johns ;  and  he  was  now  waiting  his  reply.  This  is 
presently  brought  to  him  by  the  postmistress,  who, 
catching  a  glimpse  of  the  Squire  through  the  glazed 
door,  has  taken  the  precaution  to  adjust  her  cap-strings 
and  dexterously  to  flirt  one  or  two  of  the  more  ap 
parent  creases  out  of  her  dingy  bombazine.  The  let 
ter  brings  acceptance,  which  the  Squire,  having  made 
out  by  private  study  near  to  the  dusky  window,  an- 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  27 

nounces  to  Mrs.  Tew, —  begging  her  to  inform  the 
people  who  should  happen  in  from  "  up  the  road." 

"  I  hope  he  '11  suit,  Squire,"  says  Mrs.  Tew. 

"  I  hope  he  may,  —  hope  he  may,  Mrs.  Tew  ;  I  hear 
well  of  him ;  there  's  good  blood  in  him.  I  knew  his 
father,  the  Major,  —  likely  man.  I  hope  he  may,  Mrs. 
Tew." 

And  the  Squire,  having  penned  a  little  notice,  by 
favor  of  one  of  the  Tew  partners,  proceeds  to  affix  it  to 
the  meeting-house  door ;  after  which  he  walks  to  his 
own  house  ;  with  the  assured  step  of  a  man  who  is  con 
scious  of  having  accomplished  an  important  duty.  It 
is  the  very  house  we  just  now  saw  with  the  ponderous 
ogees  over  its  front,  the  balustrade  upon  its  roof,  and 
the  dame  in  spectacles  at  the  window  ;  this  latter  being 
the  spinster,  Miss  Meacham,  elder  sister  to  the  wife  of 
the  Squire,  and  taking  upon  herself,  with  active  zeal 
and  a  neatness  that  knew  no  bounds,  the  office  of  house 
keeper.  This  was  rendered  necessary  in  a  manner  by 
the  engagement  of  Mrs.  Elderkin  with  a  group  of  young 
flax-haired  children,  and  periodic  threats  of  addition  to 
the  same.  The  hospitalities  of  the  house  were  fully  es 
tablished,  and  no  state  official  could  visit  the  town  with 
out  hearty  invitation  to  the  Squire's  table.  The  spinster 
received  the  announcement  of  the  minister's  coming 
with  a  quiet  gravity,  and  betook  herself  to  the  needed 
preparation. 


VI. 

"1%  /TR.  JOHNS,  meanwhile,  when  he  had  left  the 
-*-"-•-  Handby  parlor,  where  we  saw  him  last,  and  was 
fairly  upon  the  stair,  had  replied  to  the  suggestion  of 
his  little  wife  about  the  sermon  on  Revelations  with  a 
fugitive  kiss,  and  said,  "  I  will  think  of  it,  Rachel." 

And  he  did  think  of  it,  —  thought  of  it  so  well,  that 
he  left  the  beautiful  sermon  in  his  drawer,  and  took 
with  him  a  couple  of  strong  doctrinal  discourses,  upon 
the  private  hearing  of  which  his  charming  wife  had 
commented  by  dropping  asleep  (poor  thing !)  in  her 
chair. 

But  the  strong  men  and  women  of  Ashfield  relished 
them  better.  There  was  a  sermon  for  the  morning  on 
"  Regeneration  the  work  only  of  grace  "  ;  and  another 
for  the  afternoon,  on  the  outer  leaf  of  which  was  written, 
in  the  parson's  bold  hand,  "  The  doctrine  of  Election 
compatible  with  the  infinite  goodness  of  God."  It  is 
hard  to  say  which  of  the  two  was  the  better,  or  which 
commended  itself  most  to  the  church  full  of  people  who 
listened.  Deacon  Tourtelot,  —  a  short,  wiry  man,  with 
reddish  whiskers  brushed  primly  forward,  —  sitting  un- 


DOCTOR   JOHNS.  29 

der  the  very  droppings  of  the  pulpit,  with  painful  erect- 
ness,  and  listening  grimly  throughout,  was  inclined  to 
the  sermon  of  the  morning.  Dame  Tourtelot,  who  over 
topped  her  husband  by  half  a  head,  and  from  her  great 
scoop  hat,  trimmed  with  green,  kept  her  keen  eyes 
fastened  intently  upon  the  minister  on  trial,  was  enlisted 
in  the  same  belief,  until  she  heard  the  Deacon's  timid 
expression  of  preference,  when  she  pounced  upon  him, 
and  declared  for  the  Election  discourse.  It  was  not 
her  way  to  allow  him  to  enjoy  an  opinion  of  his  own 
getting.  Miss  Almira,  their  only  child,  and  now  grown 
into  a  spare  womanhood,  that  was  decorated  with 
another  scoop  hat  akin  to  the  mother's,  —  from  under 
which  hung  two  yellow  festoons  of  ringlets  tied  with 
lively  blue  ribbons,  —  was  steadfastly  observant ; 
though  wearing  a  fagged  air  before  the  day  was  over, 
and  consulting  on  one  or  two  occasions  a  little  phial  of 
"'  salts,"  with  a  side  movement  of  the  head,  and  an  in 
quiring  nostril. 

Squire  Elderldn,  having  thrown  himself  into  a  com 
fortable  position  in  the  corner  of  his  square  pew,  is 
cheerfully  attentive ;  and  at  one  or  two  of  the  more 
marked  passages  of  the  sermon  bestows  a  nod  of  ap 
proval,  and  a  glance  at  Miss  Meacham  and  Mrs.  Elder- 
kin,  to  receive  their  acknowledgment  of  the  same.  The 
young  Elderkins  (of  whom  three  are  of  meeting-house 
size)  are  variously  affected ;  Miss  Dora,  being  turned 


30  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

of  six,  wears  an  air  of  some  weariness,  and  having 
dispatched  all  the  edible  matter  upon  a  stalk  of  cara 
way,  she  uses  the  despoiled  brush  in  keeping  the 
youngest  boy,  Ned,  in  a  state  of  uneasy  wakefulness. 
Bob,  ranking  between  the  two  in  point  of  years,  and 
being  mechanically  inclined,  devotes  himself  to  turning 
in  their  sockets  the  little  bobbins  which  form  a  balus 
trade  around  the  top  of  the  pew ;  but  being  diverted 
from  this  very  suddenly  by  a  sharp  squeak  that  calls 
the  attention  of  his  Aunt  Joanna,  he  assumes  the  peni 
tential  air  of  listener  for  full  five  minutes  ;  afterward 
he  relieves  himself  by  constructing  a  small  meeting 
house  out  of  the  psalm-books  and  Bible,  his  Aunt  Joan 
na's  spectacle-case  serving  for  a  steeple. 

There  was  an  air  of  subdued  reverence  in  the  new 
clergyman,  which  was  not  only  agreeable  to  the  people 
in  itself,  but  seemed  to  very  many  thoughtful  ones  to  im 
ply  a  certain  respect  for  them  and  for  the  parish.  The 
men  of  that  day  in  Ashfield  were  intolerant  of  mere  ele 
gances,  or  of  any  jauntiness  of  manner.  But  Mr.  Johns 
was  so  calm  and  serious,  and  yet  gave  so  earnest  ex 
pression  to  the  old  beliefs  they  had  so  long  cherished, 
—  he  was  so  clearly  wedded  to  all  those  rigidities  by 
which  the  good  people  thought  it  a  merit  to  cramp  their 
religious  thinking,  —  that  there  was  but  one  opinion  of 
his  fitness. 

Deacon  Tourtelot,  sidling  down  the  aisle  after  service, 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  31 

out  of  hearing  of  his  consort,  says  to  Elderkin,  "  Smart 
man,  Squire." 

And  the  Squire  nods  acquiescence.  "  Sound  sermon- 
izer,  —  sound  sermonizer,  Deacon." 

These  two  opinions  were  as  good  as  a  majority-vote 
in  the  town  of  Ashfield,  —  all  the  more  since  the  Squire 
was  a  thorough -going  Jeffersonian  Democrat,  and  the 
Deacon  a  warm  Federalist,  so  far  as  the  poor  man 
could  be  warm  at  any  thing,  who  was  on  the  alert  every 
hour  of  his  life  to  escape  the  hammer  of  his  wife's  re 
proaches. 

So  it  happened  that  the  parish  was  called  together, 
and  an  invitation  extended  to  Brother  Johns  to  continue 
his  ministrations  for  a  month  further.  Of  course  the 
novitiate  understood  this  to  be  the  crucial  test ;  and  he 
accepted  it  with  a  composure,  and  a  lack  of  impertinent 
effort  to  please  them  overmuch,  which  altogether 
charmed  them.  On  four  successive  Saturdays  he  drove 
over  to  Ashfield,  —  sometimes  stopping  with  one  or  the 
other  of  the  two  deacons,  and  at  other  times  with  Squire 
Elderkin,  —  and  on  one  or  two  occasions  taking  his 
wife  by  special  invitation.  Of  her,  too,  the  people  of 
Ashfield  had  but  one  opinion :  that  she  was  of  a  duc 
tile  temper  was  most  easy  to  be  seen  ;  and  there  was 
not  a  strong-minded  woman  of  the  parish  but  antici 
pated  with  delight  the  power  and  pleasure  of  moulding 
her  to  her  wishes.  The  husband  continued  to  preach 


32  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

agreeably  to  their  notions  of  orthodoxy,  and  at  the  end 
of  the  month  they  gave  him  a  "  call,"  with  the  promise 
of  four  hundred  dollars  a  year,  besides  sundry  odds  and 
ends  made  up  by  donation  visits  and  otherwise. 

This  sum,  which  was  not  an  inconsiderable  one  for 
those  days,  enabled  the  clergyman  to  rent  as  a  parson 
age  the  old  house  we  have  seen,  with  the  big  brazen 
knocker,  and  diamond  lights  in  either  half  of  its  green 
door.  It  stood  under  the  shade  of  two  huge  ashes,  at  a 
little  remove  back  from  the  street,  and  within  easy 
walk  from  the  central  common.  A  heavy  dentilated 
cornice,  from  which  the  paint  was  peeling  away  in  flaky 
patches,  hung  over  the  windows  of  the  second  floor. 
Within  the  door  was  a  little  entry  —  (for  years  and  years 
the  pastor's  hat  and  cane  used  to  lie  upon  a  table  that 
stood  just  within  the  door)  ;  from  the  entry  a  cramped 
stairway,  by  three  sharp  angles,  led  to  the  floor  above. 
To  the  right  and  left  were  two  low  parlors.  The  sun 
was  shining  broadly  in  the  south  one  when  the  couple 
first  entered  the  house. 

"  Good  !  "  said  Rachel,  with  her  pleasant,  brisk  tone, 

—  "  this  shall  be  your  study,  Benjamin ;  the  bookcase 
here,  the  table  there,  a  nice  warm  carpet,  we  '11  paper 
it  with  blue,  the  Major's  sword  shall  be  hung  over  the 
mantel." 

"  Tut !  tut !  "  says  the  clergyman  ;  "  a  sword,  Rachel, 

—  in  my  study  ?  " 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  33 

"  To  be  sure  !  why  not  ?  "  says  Rachel.  "  And  if 
you  like,  I  will  hang  my  picture,  with  the  doves  and  the 
olive-branch,  above  it ;  and  there  shall  be  a  shelf  for 
hyacinths  in  the  window." 

Thus  she  ran  on  in  her  pretty  housewifely  manner, 
cooing  like  the  doves  she  talked  of,  plotting  the  ar 
rangement  of  the  parlor  opposite,  of  the  long  dining- 
room  stretching  athwart  the  house  in  the  rear,  and  of 

O  * 

the  kitchen  under  a  roof  of  its  own,  still  farther  back, 
—  he  all  the  while  giving  grave  assent,  as  if  he  listened 
to  her  contrivance  :  he  was  only  listening  to  the  music 
of  a  sweet  voice  that  somehow  charmed  his  ear,  and 
thanking  God  in  his  heart  that  such  music  was  be- 

O 

stowed  upon  a  sinful  world,  and  praying  that  he  might 
never  listen  too  fondly. 

Behind  the  house  were  yard,  garden,  orchard,  and 
this  last  drooping  away  to  a  meadow.  Over  all  these 
the  pair  of  light  feet  pattered  beside  the  master. 
"  Here  shall  be  lilies,"  she  said  ;  "  there,  a  great  bunch 
of  mother's  peonies  ;  and  by  the  gate,  hollyhocks  "  ;  — 
he,  by  this  time,  plotting  a  sermon  upon  the  vanities  of 
the  world. 

Yet  in  due  time  it  came  to  pass  that  the  parsonage 
was  all  arranged  according  to  the  fancies  of  its  mistress, 
—  even  to  the  Major's  sword  and  the  twin  doves.  Es 
ther,  a  stout  middle-aged  dame,  and  stanch  Congrega 
tion  alist,  recommended  by  the  good  women  of  the  par- 

VOL.  I.  3 


34  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

ish,  is  installed  in  the  kitchen  as  maid-of-all-work.  As 
gardener,  groom,  (a  sedate  pony  and  square-topped 
chaise  forming  part  of  the  establishment,)  factotum,  in 
short,  —  there  is  the  frowzy-headed  man  Larkin,  who 
has  his  quarters  in  an  airy  loft  above  the  kitchen. 

The  brass  knocker  is  scoured  to  its  brightest.  The 
parish  is  neighborly.  Dame  Tourtelot  is  impressive  in 
her  proffers  of  advice.  The  Tew  partners,  Elderkin, 
Meacham,  and  all  the  rest,  meet  the  new  housekeepers 
open-handed.  Before  mid-winter,  the  smoke  of  this 
new  home  was  piling  lazily  into  the  sky  above  the  tree- 
tops  of  Ashfield,  —  a  home,  as  we  shall  find  by  and  by, 
"of  much  trial  and  much  cheer.  Twenty  years  after, 
and  the  master  of  it  was  master  of  it  still,  —  strong, 
seemingly,  as  ever ;  the  brass  knocker  shining  on  the 
door ;  the  sword  and  the  doves  in  place.  But  the 
pattering  feet,  —  the  voice  that  made  music,  —  the 
tender,  wifely  plotting,  —  the  cheery  sunshine  that 
smote  upon  her  as  she  talked,  —  alas  for  us  !  —  "  All 
is  Vanity  ! " 


VII. 

TT  was  not  easy  in  that  day  to  bring  together  the 
-"-  opinions  of  a  Connecticut  parish  that  had  been 
jostled  apart  by  a  parochial  quarrel,  and  where  old 
grievances  were  festering.  Indeed,  it  is  never  easy 
to  do  this,  and  unite  opinions  upon  a  new-comer,  un 
less  he  have  some  rare  gift  of  eloquence,  which  so 
dazes  the  good  people  that  they  can  no  longer  re 
member  their  petty  griefs,  or  unless  he  manage  with 
rare  tact  to  pass  lightly  over  the  sore  points,  and  to 
anoint  them  by  a  careful  hand  with  such  healing  salves 
as  he  can  concoct  out  of  his  pastoral  charities.  Mr. 
Johns  had  neither  art  nor  eloquence,  as  commonly 
understood  ;  yet  he  effected  a  blending  of  all  interests 
by  the  simple,  earnest  gravity  of  his  character.  He 
ignored  all  angry  disputation  ;  he  ignored  its  results. 
He  came  as  a  shepherd  to  a  deserted  sheepfold  ;  he 
came  to  preach  the  Bible  doctrines  in  their  literalness. 
He  had  no  reproofs,  save  for  those  who  refused  the 
offers  of  God's  mercy,  —  no  commendation,  save  for 
those  who  sought  His  grace  whose  favor  is  life  ever 
lasting.  There  were  no  metaphysical  niceties  in  his 


36  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

discourses,  athwart  which  keen  disputants  might  poise 
themselves  for  close  and  angry  conflict ;  he  recog 
nized  no  necessities  but  the  great  ones  of  repentance 
and  faith ;  and  all  the  mysteries  of  the  Will  he  was 
accustomed  to  solve  by  grand  utterance  of  that  text 
which  he  loved  above  all  others,  —  however  much  it 
may  have  troubled  him  in  his  discussion  of  Election, 
—  "Whosoever  ivill,  let  him  come  and  drink  of  the 
water  of  life  freely." 

Inheriting  as  he  did  all  the  religious  affinities  of 
his  mother,  these  were  compacted  and  made  sensitive 
by  years  of  silent  protest  against  the  proud  worldly 
sufficiency  of  his  father,  the  Major.  Such  qualities 
and  experience  found  repose  in  the  unyielding  dog 
mas  of  the  Westminster  divines.  At  thirty  the  clergy 
man  was  as  aged  as  most  men  of  forty-five,  —  seared 
by  the  severity  of  his  opinions,  and  the  unshaken 
tenacity  with  which  he  held  them.  He  was  by  nature 
a  quiet,  almost  a  timid  man ;  but  over  the  old  white 
desk  and  crimson  cushion,  with  the  choir  of  singers 
in  his  front  and  the  Bible  under  his  hand,  he  grew 
into  wonderful  boldness.  He  cherished  an  exalted 
idea  of  the  dignity  of  his  office,  —  a  dignity  which 
he  determined  to  maintain  to  the  utmost  of  his 
power ;  but  in  the  pulpit  only  did  the  full  measure  of 
this  exaltation  come  over  him.  Thence  he  looked  down 
serenely  upon  the  flock  of  which  he  was  the  appointed 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  37 

guide,  and  among  whom  his  duty  lay.  The  shepherd 
leading  his  sheep  was  no  figure  of  speech  for  him ;  he 
was  commissioned  to  their  care,  and  was  conducting 
them  —  old  men  and  maidens,  boys  and  gray-haired 
women  —  athwart  the  dangers  of  the  world,  toward 
the  great  fold.  On  one  side  always  the  fires  of  hell 
were  gaping ;  and  on  the  other  were  blazing  the  great 
candlesticks  around  the  throne. 

But  when,  on  some  occasion,  he  had,  under  the  full 
weight  of  his  office,  inveighed  against  a  damning  evil, 
and,  as  he  fondly  hoped  by  the  stillness  in  the  old 
meeting-house,  wrought  upon  sinners  effectually,  it  was 
disheartening  to  be  met  by  some  hoary  member  of 
his  flock,  whom  perhaps  he  had  borne  particularly 
in  mind,  and  to  be  greeted  cheerfully  with,  "  Capital 
sermon,  Mr.  Johns !  those  are  the  sort  that  do  the 
business  !  I  like  those,  parson !  "  The  poor  man,  hu 
miliated,  would  bow  his  thanks.  He  lacked  the  art 
(if  it  be  an  art)  to  press  the  matter  home,  when  he 
met  one  of  his  parishioners  thus.  Indeed,  his  sense 
of  the  importance  of  his  calling  and  his  extreme  con 
scientiousness  gave  him  an  air  of  timidity  outside  the 
pulpit,  which  offered  great  contrast  to  that  which  he 
wore  in  the  heat  of  his  sermonizing.  Not  that  he  for- 

D 

got  the  dignity  of  his  position  for  a  moment,  but  he 
wore  it  too  trenchantly ;  he  could  never  unbend  to 
the  free  play  of  side-talk.  Hence  he  could  not  look 


38  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

upon  the  familiar  spirit  of  badinage  in  which  some 
of  his  brethren  of  the  profession  indulged,  without 
serious  doubts  of  their  complete  submission  to  the 
Heavenly  King.  Always  the  weight  of  his  solemn 
duties  pressed  sorely  on  him  ;  always  amid  pitfalls  he 
was  conducting  his  little  flock  toward  the  glories  of 
the  Great  Court.  There  is  many  a  man  narrowed 
and  sharpened  by  metaphysical  inquiry  to  such  a  de 
gree  as  to  count  the  indirection  and  freedom  of  kindly 
chat  irksome,  and  the  occasion  of  a  needless  blunting 
of  that  quick  mental  edge  with  which  he  must  scathe 
all  he  touches.  But  the  stiffness  of  Mr.  Johns  was 
not  that  of  constant  mental  strain  ;  he  did  not  refine 
upon  his  dogmas;  but  he  gave  them  such  hearty  en 
tertainment,  and  so  imvrapped  his  spirit  with  their 
ponderous  gravity,  that  he  could  not  disrobe  in  a  mo 
ment,  or  uncover  to  every  chance  comer. 

It  is  quite  possible  that  by  reason  of  this  grave 
taciturnity  the  clergyman  won  more  surely  upon  the 
respect  of  his  people.  "  He  is  engrossed,"  said  they, 
"  with  greater  matters  ;  and  in  all  secular  affairs  he 
recognizes  our  superior  discernment."  Thus  his  in 
aptitude  in  current  speech  was  construed  by  them 
into  a  delicate  flattery.  They  greatly  relished  his 
didactic,  argumentative  sermonizing,  since  theirs  was 
a  religion  not  so  much  of  the  sensibilities  as  of  the 
intellect.  They  agonized  toward  the  truth,  if  not  by 


DOCTOR   JOHNS.  39 

intense  thinking,  yet  by  what  many  good  people  are 
apt  to  mistake  for  it,  —  immense  endurance  of  the 
prolix  thought  of  others. 

If  the  idea  of  universal  depravity  had  been  ignored, 
—  as  it  sometimes  is  in  these  latitudinarian  days,  — 
or  the  notion  of  any  available  or  worthy  Christian 
culture,  as  distinct  from  a  direct  and  clearly  defined 
agency,  both  as  to  time  and  force,  of  the  Spirit,  had 
been  entertained,  he  would  have  lost  half  of  the  ele 
ments  by  which  his  arguments  gained  logical  sequence. 
But,  laboring  his  way  from  stake  to  stake  of  the  old 
dogmas  of  the  Westminster  divines,  he  fastened  to 
them  stoutly,  and  swept  round  from  each  as  a  center 
a  great  scathing  circle  of  deductions,  that  beat  wofully 
upon  the  heads  of  unbelievers.  And  if  a  preacher 
attack  only  unbelievers,  he  has  the  world  with  him, 
now  as  then  ;  it  is  only  he  who  has  the  bad  taste  to 
meddle  with  the  caprices  of  believers  who  gets  the 
raps  and  the  orders  of  dismissal. 

Thus  it  happened  that  good  Mr.  Johns  came  to  win 
the  good-will  of  all  the  parish  of  Ashfield,  while  he 
challenged  their  respect  by  his  uniform  gravity.  It 
is  even  possible  that  a  consciousness  of  a  certain 
stateliness  and  stiffness  of  manner  became  in  some 
measure  a  source  of  pride  to  him,  and  that  he  enjoyed, 
in  his  subdued  way,  the  disposition  of  the  lads  of 
the  town  to  give  him  a  wide  pass,  instead  of  brushing 


40  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

brusquely  against  him,  as  if  he  were  some  other  than 
the  parson. 

In  those  days  he  wrote  to  his  sister  Eliza,  — 
"  We  are  fairly  settled  in  a  pleasant  home  upon  the 
main  street  The  meeting-house,  which  you  will  re 
member,  is  near  by ;  and  I  have,  by  the  blessing  of 
God,  a  full  attendance  every  Lord's  day.  They  lis 
ten  to  my  poor  sermons  with  commendable  earnest 
ness  ;  and  I  trust  they  may  prove  to  them  '  a  savor 
of  life  unto  life.'  We  also  find  the  people  of  the 
town  neighborly  and  kind.  Squire  Elderkin  has 
proved  particularly  so,  and  is  a  very  energetic  man 
in  all  matters  relating  to  the  parish.  I  fear  greatly, 
however,  that  he  still  lacks  the  intimate  favor  of  God, 
and  has  not  humbled  himself  to  entire  submission. 
Yet  he  is  constant  in  his  observance  of  nearly  all  the 
outward  forms  of  devotion  and  of  worship ;  and  we  hear 
of  his  charities  in  every  house  we  enter.  Strange 
mystery  of  Providence,  that  he  should  not  long  since 
have  been  broken  down  by  grace,  and  become  in  all 
things  a  devout  follower  of  the  Master !  I  hope  yet  to 
see  him  brought  a  humble  suppliant  into  the  fold. 
His  wife  is  a  most  excellent  person,  lowly  in  her  faith, 
and  zealous  of  good  works.  The  same  may  also  be 
said  of  their  worthy  maiden  sister,  Miss  Joanna  Mea- 
cham,  who  is,  of  a  truth,  a  matron  in  Israel.  Rachel 
and  myself  frequently  take  tea  at  their  house  ;  and  she 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  41 

is  much  interested  in  the  little  family  of  Elderkins, 
who,  I  am  glad  to  say,  enjoy  excellent  advantages, 
and  such  of  them  as  are  of  proper  age  are  duly  taught 
in  the  Shorter  Westminster  Catechism. 

"  Deacon  Tourtelot,  another  of  our  neighbors,  is  a 
devout  man ;  and  Dame  Tourtelot  (as  she  is  com 
monly  called)  is  a  woman  of  quite  extraordinary  zeal 
and  capacity.  Their  daughter  Almira  is  untiring  in 
attendance,  and  aids  the  services  by  singing  treble. 
Deacon  Simmons,  who  lives  at  quite  a  distance  from 
us,  is  represented  to  be  a  man  of  large  means  and 
earnest  in  the  faith.  He  has  a  large  farm,  and  also 
a  distillery,  both  of  which  are  said  to  be  managed  with 
great  foresight  and  prudence.  I  trust  that  the  re 
ports  which  I  hear  occasionally  of  his  penuriousness 
are  not  wholly  true,  and  that  in  due  time  his  hand 
will  be  opened  by  divine  grace  to  a  more  effectual 
showing  forth  of  the  deeds  of  charity.  I  do  not  allow 
myself  to  entertain  any  of  the  scandals  which  un 
fortunately  belong  more  or  less  to  every  parish,  and 
which  so  interrupt  the  growth  of  that  Christian  love 
which  is  the  parent  of  all  virtues ;  and  I  trust  that 
these  good  people  may  come  in  time  to  see  that  it  is 
better  to  live  together  in  harmony  than  to  foment 
those  bickerings  which  have  led  so  recently  to  the 
dismissal  of  my  poor  brother  in  the  Gospel.  Our 
home  affairs  are,  I  believe,  managed  prudently,  —  the 


42  DOCTOR   JOHNS. 

two  servants  being  most  excellent  persons,  and  my 
little  Rachel  a  very  sunbeam  in  the  house." 

And  the  little  sunbeam  writes  to  Mrs.  Ilandby  at 
about  the  same  date,  —  we  will  say  from  six  to  eight 
months  after  their  entry,  — 

"  Every  thing  goes  on  delightfully,  dear  mamma. 
Esther  is  a  good  creature,  and  helps  me  wonderfully. 
You  would  laugh  to  see  me  fingering  the  raw  meats 
at  the  butcher's  cart  to  choose  nice  pieces,  which  I 
really  can  do  now ;  and  it  is  fortunate  I  can,  for  the 
goodman  Benjamin  knows  positively  nothing  of  such 
things,  and  I  am  sure  would  n't  be  able  to  tell  mutton 
from  beef. 

"  The  little  parlor  is  nicely  furnished ;  there  is  an 
elegant  hair  sofa,  and  over  the  mantel  is  the  portrait 
of  Major  Johns ;  and  then  the  goodman  has  insisted 
upon  hanging  under  the  looking-glass  my  old  sampler 
in  crewel,  with  a  gilt  frame  around  it ;  on  the  table 
is  the  illustrated  '  Pilgrim's  Progress '  papa  gave  me, 
and  a  volume  of  '  Calmet's  Dictionary '  I  have  taken 
out  of  the  study,  —  it  is  full  of  such  beautifid  pictures, 
—  and  '  Mrs.  Hannah  More '  in  full  gilt.  The  big 
Bible  you  gave  us,  the  goodman  says,  is  too  large  for 
easy  handling ;  so  it  is  kept  on  a  stand  in  the  corner, 
with  the  great  fly-brush  of  peacock's  feathers  hanging 
over  it.  I  have  put  charming  blue  chintz  curtains  in 
the  spare  chamber,  and  arranged  every  thing  there  very 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  43 

nicely  ;  so  that  before  a  certain  event,  you  must  be  sure 
to  come  and  take  possession. 

"  Last  night  we  took  tea  again  with  the  Elderkins, 
and  Mrs.  Elderkin  was  as  kind  to  me  as  ever,  and  Miss 
Meacham  is  an  excellent  woman,  and  the  little  ones  are 
loves  of  children  ;  and  I  wish  you  could  see  them.  But 
you  will,  you  know,  quite  soon.  Sometimes  I  fall  to 
crying,  when  I  think  of  it  all ;  and  then  the  goodman 
comes  and  puts  his  hand  on  my  head,  and  says,  — 
'  Rachel !  Rachel,  my  dear  !  is  this  your  gratitude  for 
all  God's  mercies  ?  '  And  then  I  jump  up,  and  kiss  his 
grave  face,  and  laugh  through  my  tears.  He  is  a  dear 
good  man.  This  is  all  very  foolish,  I  suppose  ;  but, 
mamma,  is  n't  it  the  way  with  all  women  ? 

"  Dame  Tourtelot  is  a  great  storm  of  a  creature,  and 
she  comes  down  upon  us  every  now  and  then,  and  ad 
vises  me  about  the  housekeeping  and  the  table,  arid  the 
servants,  and  Benjamin,  —  giving  me  a  great  many 
good  hints,  I  suppose ;  but  in  such  a  way,  and  calling 
me  '  my  child,'  as  makes  me  feel  good  for  nothing,  and 
as  if  I  were  not  fit  to  be  mistress.  Miss  Almira  is  a 
quiet  thing,  and  has  a  piano.  She  dresses  very  queerly, 
and,  I  have  been  told,  has  written  poetry  for  the '  Hart- 
fort  Courant,'  over  two  stars  — *  *.  She  seems  a  good 
creature,  though,  and  comes  to  see  us  often.  The 
chaise  is  a  great  comfort,  and  our  old  horse  Dobbins  is 
a  good,  sober  horse.  Benjamin  often  takes  me  with 


44  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

him  in  his  drives  to  see  the  parishioners  who  live  out 
of  town.  He  tells  me  about  the  trees  and  the  flowers, 
and  a  thousand  matters  I  never  heard  of.  Indeed,  he 
is  a  good  man,  and  he  knows  a  world  of  things." 

The  tender-hearted,  kind  soul  makes  her  way  into  the 
best  graces  of  the  people  of  Ashfield  :  the  older  ones 
charmed  with  that  blithe  spirit  of  hers,  and  all  the 
younger  ones  mating  easily  with  her  simple,  outspoken 
naturalness.  She  goes  freely  everywhere  ;  she  is  not 
stiffened  by  any  ceremony,  nor  does  she  carry  any 
stately  notions  of  the  dignity  of  her  office,  —  some  few 
there  may  be  who  wish  that  she  had  a  keener  sense  of 
thf»  importance  of  her  position  ;  she  even  bursts  unan 
nounced  into  the  little  glazed  corner  of  the  Tew  part 
ners,  where  she  prattles  away  with  the  sedate  Mistress 
Tew  in  good,  kindly  fashion,  winning  that  stiff  old 
lady's  heart,  and  moving  her  to  declare  to  all  customers 
that  the  parson's  wife  has  no  pride  about  her,  and  is  "  a 
dear  little  thing,  to  be  sure  !  " 

On  summer  evenings,  Dobbins  is  to  be  seen,  two  or 
three  times  in  the  week,  jogging  along  before  the 
square-topped  chaise,  upon  some  highway  that  leads 
into  the  town,  with  the  parson  seated  within,  with  slack 
ened  rein,  and  in  thoughtful  mood,  from  which  he  rouses 
himself  from  time  to  time  with  a  testy  twitch  and  noisy 
chirrup  that  urge  the  poor  beast  into  a  faster  gait.  All 
the  while  the  little  wife  sits  beside  him,  as  if  a  twitter- 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  45 

ing  sparrow  had  nestled  itself  upon  the  same  perch  with 
some  grave  owl,  and  sat  with  him  side  by  side,  watching 
for  the  big  eyes  to  turn  upon  her,  and  chirping  some 
pretty  response  for  every  solemn  utterance  of  the  wise 
old  bird  beside  her. 


VIII. 

the  return  from  one  of  these  parochial  drives, 
t  long  after  their  establishment  at  Ashfield,  it 
happened  that  the  good  parson  and  his  wife  were  not 
a  little  startled  at  sight  of  a  stranger  lounging  familiarly 
at  their  door.  A  little  roof  jutted  out  over  the  entrance 
to  the  parsonage,  without  any  apparent  support,  and 
flanking  the  door  were  two  plank  seats,  with  their  ends 
toward  the  street,  cut  away  into  the  shape  of  those  "  set 
tles  "  which  used  to  be  seen  in  country  taverns,  and 
which  here  seemed  to  invite  a  quiet  out-of-door  gossip. 
But  the  grave  manner  of  the  parson  had  never  invited 
to  a  very  familiar  use  of  this  loitering-place,  even  by 
the  most  devoted  of  the  parishioners ;  and  the  appear 
ance  of  a  stranger  of  some  two-and-thirty  years,  with 
something  in  his  manner,  as  much  as  in  his  dress,  which 
told  of  large  familiarity  with  the  world,  lounging  upon 
this  little  porch,  had  amazed  the  passers-by,  as  much 
as  it  now  did  the  couple  who  drove  up  slowly  in  the 
square-topped  chaise. 

"  Who  can  it  be,  Benjamin  ?  "  says  Rachel. 

"  I  really  can't  say,"  returns  the  parson. 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  47 

"  He  seems  very  much  at  home,  my  dear,"  —  as  in 
deed  he  does,  with  his  feet  stretched  out  upon  the 
bench,  and  eying  curiously  the  approaching  vehicle. 

As  it  draws  near,  his  observation  being  apparently 
satisfactory,  he  walks  briskly  down  to  the  gate,  and 
greets  the  parson  with,  — 

"  My  dear  Johns,  I  'm  delighted  to  see  you !  " 

At  this  the  parson  knew  him,  and  greets  him,  — 

"  Maverick,  upon  my  word  !  "  and  offers  his  hand. 

"  And  this  is  Mrs.  Johns,  I  suppose,"  says  the 
stranger,  bowing  graciously.  "  Allow  me,  Madam ;  " 
and  he  assists  her  to  alight.  "  Your  husband  and  my 
self  were  old  college-friends,  partners  of  the  same  bench, 
and  I  've  used  no  ceremony,  you  see,  in  finding  him 
out." 

Rachel,  eying  him  furtively,  and  with  a  little  rus 
tic  courtesy,  "  is  glad  to  see  any  of  her  husband's  old 
friends." 

The  parson  —  upon  his  feet  now  —  shakes  the 
stranger's  hand  heartily  again. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  Maverick  ;  but  I  thought 
you  were  out  of  the  country." 

"  So  I  have  been,  Johns  ;  am  home  only  upon  a  visit, 
and  hearing  by  accident  that  you  had  become  a  clergy 
man  —  as  I  always  thought  you  would  —  and  were  set 
tled  hereabout,  I  determined  to  run  down  and  see  you 
before  sailing  asrain." 


48  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

"  You  must  stop  with  me.  Rachel,  dear,  will  you 
have  the  spare  room  made  ready  for  Mr.  Maverick  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Madam,  don't  give  yourself  the  least 
trouble  ;  I  am  an  old  traveler,  and  can  make  myself 
quite  comfortable  at  the  tavern  yonder ;  but  if  it 's  al 
together  convenient,  I  shall  be  delighted  to  pass  the 
night  under  the  roof  of  my  old  friend.  I  shall  be  off 
to-morrow  noon,"  continued  he,  turning  to  the  parson, 
"  and  until  then  I  want  you  to  put  off  your  sermons  and 
make  me  one  of  your  parishioners." 

So  they  all  went  into  the  parsonage  together. 

Frank  Maverick,  as  he  had  said,  had  shared  the  same 
bench  with  Johns  in  college  ;  and  between  them,  un 
like  as  they  were  in  character,  there  had  grown  up  a 
strong  friendship,  —  one  of  those  singular  intimacies 
which  bind  the  gravest  men  to  the  most  cheery  and 
reckless.  Maverick  was  forever  running  into  scrapes 
and  consulting  the  cool  head  of  Johns  to  help  him  out 
of  them.  There  was  never  a  tutor's  windows  to  be 
broken  in,  or  a  callithumpian  frolic,  (which  were  in 
vogue  in  those  days,)  but  Maverick  bore  a  hand  in 
both  ;  and  somehow,  by  a  marvelous  address  that  be 
longed  to  him,  always  managed  to  escape,  or  at  most 
to  receive  only  some  grave  admonition  from  the  aca 
demic  authorities.  Johns  advised  with  him,  (giving  as 
serious  advice  then  as  he  could  give  now,)  and  added 
from  time  to  time  such  assistance  in  his  studies  as  a 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  49 

plodding  man  can  always  lend  to  one  of  quick  brain, 
who  makes  no  reckoning  of  time. 

Upon  a  certain  occasion  Maverick  had  gone  over 
with  Johns  to  his  home,  and  the  Major  had  taken  an 
immense  fancy  to  the  buoyant  young  fellow,  so  full  of 
spirits,  and  so  charmingly  frank.  "  If  your  characters 
could  only  be  welded  together,"  he  used  to  say  to  his 
son,  "  you  would  both  be  the  better  for  it ;  he  a  little  of 
your  gravity,  and  you  something  of  his  rollicking  care 
lessness."  This  bound  Johns  to  his  friend  more  closely 
than  ever.  There  was,  moreover,  great  honesty  and 
conscientiousness  in  the  lad's  composition :  he  could 
beat  in  a  tutor's  window  for  the  frolic  of  the  thing,  and 
by  way  of  paying  off  some  old  grudge  for  a  black  mark  ; 
but  there  was  a  strong  spice  of  humanity  at  the  bottom 
even  of  his  frolics.  It  happened  One  day,  that  his  friend 
Ben  Johns  told  him  that  one  of  the  bats  which  had  done 
terrible  excution  on  the  tutor's  windows  had  also  played 
havoc  on  his  table,  breaking  a  bottle  of  ink,  and  delug 
ing  some  half-dozen  of  the  tutor's  books  ;  "  and  do  you 
know,"  said  Johns,  "  the  poor  man  who  has  made  such 
a  loss  is  saving  up  all  his  pay  here  for  a  mother  and 
two  or  three  fatherless  children  ?  " 

"  The  Deuce  he  is  !  "  said  Maverick,  and  his  hand 
went  to  his  pocket,  which  was  always  pretty  full.  "  I 
say,  Johns,  don't  peach  on  me,  but  I  think  I  must  have 
thrown  that  bat,  (which  Johns  knew  to  be  hardly  possi- 


50  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

ble,  for  he  had  only  come  up  at  the  end  of  the  row,) 
and  I  want  you  to  get  this  money  to  him,  to  make  those 
books  good  again.  Will  you  do  it,  old  fellow  ?  " 

This  was  the  sort  of  character  to  win  upon  the  qniet 
son  of  the  Major.  "  If  he  were  only  more  earnest,"  he 
used  to  say,  —  "  if  he  could  give  up  his  trifling,  —  if 
he  would  only  buckle  down  to  serious  study,  as  some 
of  us  do,  what  great  things  he  might  accomplish  !  " 
A  common  enough  fancy  among  those  of  riper  years,  — 
as  if  all  the  outlets  of  a  man's  nerve-power  could  be 
dammed  into  what  shape  the  possessor  would  ! 

Maverick  was  altogether  his  old  self  this  night  at  the 
parsonage.  Eachel  listened  admiringly,  as  he  told  of 
his  travel  and  of  his  foreign  experiences.  He  was  the 
son  of  a  merchant  of  an  Eastern  seaport  who  had  been 
long  engaged  in  the  Mediterranean  trade,  with  a  branch 

o          o    o 

house  at  Marseilles  ;  and  thither  Frank  had  gone  two 
or  three  years  after  leaving  college,  to  fill  some  subor 
dinate  post,  and  finally  to  work  his  way  into  a  partner 
ship,  which  he  now  held.  Of  course  he  had  not  lived 
there  those  seven  or  eight  years  last  past  without  his 
visit  to  Paris  ;  and  his  easy,  careless  way  of  describing 
what  he  had  seen  there  in  Napoleon's  day  —  the  fetes, 
the  processions,  the  display  —  was  a  kind  of  talk  not 
often  heard  in  a  New  England  village,  and  which  took 
a  strong  hold  upon  the  imagination  of  Rachel. 

"  And  to  think,"  says  the  parson,  "  that  such  a  peo 
ple  are  wholly  infidel !  " 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  51 

"  Well,  well,  I  don't  know,"  says  Maverick ;  "  I 
think  I  have  seen  a  good  deal  of  faith  in  the  Popish 
churches." 

"  Faith  in  images  ;  faith  in  the  Virgin  ;  faith  in  mum 
mery,"  says  Johns,  with  a  sigh.  "  '  T  is  always  the  scar 
let  woman  of  Babylon  ! " 

"  I  know,"  says  Maverick,  smiling,  "  these  things  are 
not  much  to  your  taste ;  but  we  have  our  Protestant 
chapels,  too." 

"  Not  much  better,  I  fear,"  says  Johns.  "  They  are 
sadly  impregnated  with  the  Genevese  Socinianism." 

This  was  about  the  time  that  the  orthodox  Louis 
Empaytaz  was  suffering  the  rebuke  of  the  Swiss  church 
authorities  for  his  "  Considerations  upon  the  Divinity  of 
Jesus  Christ."  Aside  from  this,  all  the  parson's  notions 
of  French  religion  and  of  French  philosophy  were  of 
the  most  aggravated  degree  of  bitterness.  That  set  of 
Voltaire,  which  the  Major,  his  father,  had  once  pur 
chased,  had  not  been  without  its  fruit,  —  not  legitimate, 
indeed,  but  most  decided.  The  books  so  cautiously  put 
out  of  sight  —  like  all  such  —  had  caught  the  attention 
of  the  son ;  whereupon  his  mother  had  given  him  so 
terrible  an  account  of  French  infidelity,  and  such  a 
fearful  story  of  Voltaire's  dying  remorse,  —  current  in 
orthodox  circles,  —  as  had  caught  strong  hold  upon 
the  mind  of  the  boy.  All  Frenchmen  he  had  learned 
to  look  upon  as  the  children  of  Satan,  and  their  Ian- 


52  DOCTOR  JOHN S.i 

guage  as  the  language  of  hell.  With  these  sentiments 
very  sincerely  entertained,  he  regarded  his  poor  friend 
as  one  living  at  the  very  door-posts  of  Pandemonium, 
and  hoped,  by  God's  mercy,  to  throw  around  him  even 
now  a  little  of  the  protecting  grace  which  should  keep 
him  from  utter  destruction.  But  though  this  was  up 
permost  in  his  mind,  it  did  not  forbid  a  grateful  out 
flow  of  his  old  sympathies  and  expressions  of  interest 
in  all  that  concerned  his  friend.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  his  easy  refinement  of  manner,  in  such  contrast 
with  the  ceremonious  stiffness  of  the  New  England  cus 
toms  of  speech,  was  but  the  sliming  over  of  the  Ser 
pent's  tongue,  preparatory  to  a  dreadful  swallowing  of 
soul  and  body ;  and  the  careless  grace  of  talk,  which  so 
charmed  the  innocent  Rachel,  appeared  to  the  exact 
ing  Puritan  a  token  of  the  enslavement  of  his  old  friend 
to  sense  and  the  guile  of  this  world. 

Nine  o'clock  was  the  time  for  evening  prayers  at  the 
parsonage,  which  under  no  circumstances  were  ever 
omitted ;  and  as  the  little  clock  in  the  dining-room 
chimed  the  hour,  Mr.  Johns  rose  to  lead  the  way  from 
his  study,  where  they  had  passed  the  evening. 

"  It 's  our  hour  for  family  prayer,"  says  Johns  ;  "  will 
you  come  with  us  ?  " 

"  Most  certainly,"  says  Maverick,  rising.  "  I  should 
be  sorry  not  to  have  this  little  scene  of  New  England 
life  to  take  back  with  me  ;  it  will  recall  home  pleas 
antly." 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  53 

The  servants  were  summoned,  and  the  parson  read 
in  his  wonted  way  a  chapter,  —  not  selected,  but  desig 
nated  by  the  old  book-mark,  which  was  carried  forward 
from  day  to  day  throughout  the  sacred  volume.  In  his 
prayer  the  parson  asked  specially  for  Divine  Grace  to 
overshadow  all  those  journeying  from  their  homes,  — 
to  protect  them,  —  to  keep  alive  in  their  hearts  the 
teachings  of  their  youth,  —  to  shield  them  from  the  in 
sidious  influences  of  sin  and  of  the  world,  and  to  bring 
them  in  God's  own  good  time  into  the  fold  of  the  elect. 

Shortly  after  prayers  Rachel  retired  for  the  night. 
The  parson  and  his  old  friend  talked  for  an  hour  or 
more  in  the  study,  but  always  as  men  whose  thoughts 
were  unlike :  Maverick  rilled  and  exuberant  with  the 
prospects  of  this  life  ;  and  the  parson,  by  a  settled  pur 
pose,  which  seemed  like  instinct,  making  all  his  obser 
vations  bear  upon  futurity. 

"  The  poor  man  has  grown  very  narrow,"  thought 
Maverick. 

And  yet  Johns  entered  with  friendly  interest  into  the 
schemes  of  his  companion. 

"  So  you  count  upon  spending  your  life  there  ?  "  said 
the  parson. 

"  It  is  quite  probable,"  said  Maverick.  "  I  am  doing 
exceedingly  well ;  the  climate,  bating  some  harsh  winds 
in  winter,  is  enjoyable.  Why  should  n't  I  ?  " 

"  It 's  a  question  to   put   to   your   conscience,"  says 


54  DOCTOR   JOHNS. 

Johns,  "not  to  me.  A  man  can  but  do  his  duty,  as 
well  there  as  here  perhaps.  A  little  graft  of  New 
Englandism  may  possibly  work  good.  Do  you  mean  to 
marry  in  France,  Maverick  ?  " 

A  shade  passed  over  the  face  of  his  friend  ;  but  re 
covering  himself,  with  a  little  musical  laugh,  he  said,  — 

"  I  really  can't  say  :  there  are  very  charming  women 
there,  Johns." 

"  I  am  afraid  so,"  uttered  the  parson,  dryly. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Maverick,  —  "  you  will  excuse 
me,  —  but  you  will  be  having  a  family  by  and  by,"  — 
at  which  the  parson  fairly  blushed,  —  "  you  must  let  me 
send  over  some  little  gift  for  your  first  boy  ;  it  sha'n't 
be  one  that  will  harm  him,  though  it  comes  from  our 
heathen  side  of  the  world." 

"  There  's  a  gift  you  might  bestow,  Maverick,  that  I 
should  value  beyond  price." 

"  Pray  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Live  such  a  life,  my  friend,  that  I  could  say  to  any 
boy  of  mine,  '  Follow  the  example  of  that  man.' " 

"  Ah,"  said  Maverick,  with  his  easy,  infectious  laugh, 
"  that 's  more  than  I  can  promise.  To  tell  the  truth, 
Johns,  I  don't  believe  I  could  by  any  possibility  fall 
into  the  prim,  stiff  ways  which  make  a  man  commenda 
ble  hereabout.  Even  if  I  were  religiously  disposed,  or 
should  ever  think  of  adopting  your  profession,  I  fancy 
I  should  take  to  the  gown  and  liturgy,  as  giving  a  little 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  55 

freer  movement  to  my  taste.     You   don't  like  to  think 
of  that,  I  '11  wager." 

"  You  might  do  worse  things,"  said  the  parson,  sadly. 

"  I  know  I  might,"  said  Maverick,  thoughtfully  ;  "  I 
greatly  fear  I  shall.  Yet  it 's  not  altogether  a  bad  life 
I  'm  looking  forward  to,  Johns  :  we  '11  say  ten  or  fifteen 
more  years  of  business  on  the  other  side  ;  marrying 
sometime  in  the  interval,  —  certainly  not  until  I  have  a 
good  revenue  ;  then,  possibly,  I  may  come  over  among 
you  again,  establish  a  pretty  home  in  the  neighborhood 
of  one  of  your  towns ;  look  after  a  girl  and  boy  or  two, 
who  may  have  come  into  the  family ;  get  the  title  of 
Squire  ;  give  fairly  to  the  missionary  societies ;  take 
my  place  in  a  good  big  family-pew  ;  dabble  in  politics, 
perhaps,  so  that  people  shall  dub  me  '  Honorable  ' : 
is  n  't  that  a  fair  show,  Johns  ?  " 

There  was  a  thief  in  the  candle,  which  the  parson 
removed  with  the  snuffers. 

"  As  for  yourself,"  continued  Maverick,  "  they  '11  give 
you  the  title  of  Doctor  after  a  few  years !  "  -  The  par 
son  raised  his  hand,  as  if  to  put  away  the  thought. —  "  I 
know,"  continued  his  friend,  "  you  don't  seek  worldly 
honors :  but  they  will  drift  upon  you  ;  they  '11  all  love 
you  hereabout,  in  spite  of  your  seriousness  (the  parson 
smiled)  ;  you  '11  have  your  house  full  of  children ;  you  '11 
be  putting  a  wing  here  and  a  wing  there ;  and  when  I 
come  back,  twenty  years  hence,  if  I  live,  I  shall  find 


56  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

you  comfortably  gray,  and  your  pretty  wife  in  spectacles, 
knitting  mittens  for  the  youngest  boy,  and  the  oldest 
at  college,  and  your  girls  grown  into  tall  village  belles ; 
—  but,  Johns,  don't,  I  beg,  be  too  strict  with  them  ; 
you  can't  make  a  merry  young  creature  the  better  by 
insisting  upon  seriousness ;  you  can't  crowd  goodness 
into  a  body  by  pounding  upon  it.  What  are  you  think 
ing  of,  Johns  ?  " 

The  parson  was  sitting  with  his  eyes  bent  upon  a 
certain  figure  in  the  green  and  red  Scotch  carpet. 

"  Thinking,  Maverick,  that  in  twenty  years'  time,  if 
alive,  we  may  be  less  fit  for  heaven  than  we  are  to- 
day." 

There  was  a  pitying  kindliness  in  the  tone  of  the 
minister,  as  he  said  this,  which  touched  Maverick. 

"  There  's  no  doubt  on  your  score,  Johns,  God  bless 
you  !  But  we  must  paddle  our  own  boats  ;  I  dare  say 
you  '11  come  out  a  long  way  before  me  ;  you  always  did, 
you  know.  Every  man  to  his  path." 

" There  's  but  one"  said  Johns,  solemnly,  "  that  lead- 
eth  to  eternal  rest." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  Maverick,  with  a  gay  smile  upon 
his  face,  which  the  parson  remembered  long  after,  "  we 
are  the  goats  ;  but  you  must  have  a  little  pity  on  us,  for 
all  that." 

With  these  words  they  parted  for  the  night 

Next  morning,  before  the  minister  was  astir,  Maver- 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  57 

ick  was  strolling  about  the  garden  and  the  village  street, 
and  at  breakfast  appeared  with  a  little  bunch  of  violets 
he  had  gathered  from  Rachel's  flower-patch,  and  laid 
them  by  her  plate.  (It  was  a  graceful  attention,  that 
not  even  the  clergyman  had  ever  paid  to  her.)  And  he 
further  delighted  her  with  a  description  of  some  floral 
fete  which  he  had  witnessed  at  Marseilles,  in  the  year 
of  the  Restoration. 

"  They  welcomed  their  old  masters,  then  ?  "  said  the 
parson. 

"  Perhaps  so  ;  one  can  never  say.  The  French  ex 
press  their  joy  with  flowers,  and  they  bury  their  grief 
with  flowers.  I  like  them  for  it ;  I  think  there 's  a  ripe 
philosophy  in  it." 

"  A  heathen  philosophy,"  said  the  minister. 

At  noon  Maverick  left  upon  the  old  swaying  stage 
coach,  —  looking  out,  as  he  passed,  upon  the  parsonage, 
with  its  quaintly  panelled  door,  and  its  diamond  lights, 
of  which  he  long  kept  the  image  in  his  mind.  That 
brazen  knocker  he  seemed  to  hear  in  later  years,  beat 
ing,  —  beating  as  if  his  brain  lay  under  it. 

"  I  think  Mr.  Frank  Maverick  is  a  most  charming 
man,"  said  the  pretty  Mrs.  Johns  to  her  husband. 

"  He  is,  Rachel,  and  generous  and  open-hearted,  — • 
and  yet,  in  the  sight  of  Heaven,  I  fear,  a  miserable  sin 
ner." 

"  But,  Benjamin,  my  dear,  we  are  all  sinners." 

«  All,  —  all,  Rachel,  God  help  us !  " 


IX. 

TN  December  of  the  year  1820  came  about  a  certain 
-*••  event  of  which  hint  has  been  already  given  by  the 
party  chiefly  concerned  ;  and  Mrs.  Johns  presented  her 
husband  with  a  fine  boy,  who  was  in  due  time  chris 
tened  —  Reuben. 

Mrs.  Handby  was  present  at  this  eventful  period,  oc 
cupying  the  guest-chamber,  and  delighting  in  all  the 
little  adornments  that  had  been  prepared  by  the  loving 
hands  of  her  daughter ;  and  upon  the  following  Sab 
bath,  Mr.  Johns,  for  the  first  time  since  his  entrance 
upon  the  pastoral  duties  of  Ashfield,  ventured  to  repeat 
an  old  sermon.  Dame  Tourtelot  had  been  present  on 
the  momentous  occasion,  with  such  a  tempest  of  sug 
gestions  in  regard  to  the  wrappings  and  feeding  of  the 
new-comer,  that  the  poor  mother  had  quietly  begged 
the  good  clergyman  to  decoy  her,  on  her  next  visit,  into 
his  study.  This  he  did,  and  succeeded  in  fastening  her 
with  a  discussion  upon  the  import  of  the  word  baptize, 
in  which  he  was  in  a  fair  way  of  being  carried  by  storm, 
if  he  had  not  retreated  under  cover  of  his  Greek 
Lexicon. 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  59 

Mrs.  Elderkin  had  been  zealous  in  neighborly  offices, 
and  had  brought,  in  addition  to  a  great  basket  of  needed 
appliances,  a  silver  porringer,  which,  with  wonderful 
foresight,  had  been  ordered  from  a  Hartford  jeweller 
in  advance.  The  out-of-door  man,  Larkin,  took  a  well- 
meaning  pride  in  this  accession  to  the  family,  —  walk 
ing  up  and  down  the  street  with  a  broad  grin  upon  his 
face.  He  also  became  the  bearer,  in  behalf  of  the 
Tew  partners,  of  a  certain  artful  contrivance  of  tin 
ware  for  the  speedy  stewing  of  pap,  which,  considering 
that  the  donors  were  childless  people,  was  esteemed  a 
very  great  mark  of  respect  for  the  minister. 

Would  it  be  strange,  if  the  father  felt  a  new  ambition 
stirring  in  him,  as  he  listened  from  his  study  to  that 
cry  of  a  child  in  the  house  ?  He  does  feel  it,  and 
struggles  against  it.  Are  not  all  his  flock  his  spiritual 
children  ?  and  is  he  not  appointed  of  Heaven  to  lead 
them  toward  the  rest  which  is  promised  ?  Should  that 
babe  be  more  to  him  than  a  hundred  others  who  are 
struggling  through  life's  snares  wearily  ?  It  may  touch 
him,  indeed,  cruelly  to  think  it;  but  is  not  the  soul 
of  the  most  worthless  person  of  his  parish  as  large  in 
the  eye  of  the  Master  as  this  of  his  first-born  ?  Shall 
these  human  ties  supplant  the  spiritual  ones  by  which 
we  are  all  coheirs  of  eternal  death  or  of  eternal  life  ? 
And  in  this  way  the  minister  schools  himself  against 
too  demonstrative  a  joy  or  love,  and  prays  God  silently 
that  His  gift  may  not  be  a  temptation. 


60  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

For  all  this,  however,  there  is  many  a  walk  which 
would  have  been  taken  of  old  under  the  orchard  trees 
now  transferred  to  the  chamber,  where  he  paces  back 
and  forth  with  the  babe  in  his  arms,  soothing  its  outcry, 
as  he  thinks  out  his  discourse  for  the  following  Sab 
bath. 

In  due  time  Mrs.  Handby  returns  to  her  home.  The 
little  child  pushes  through  its  first  month  of  venture 
some  encounter  with  the  rough  world  it  has  entered 
upon  bravely;  and  the  household  is  restored  to  its  uni 
form  placidity.  The  affairs  of  the  parish  follow  their 
accustomed  course.  From  time  to  time  there  are  meet 
ings  of  the  "  Consociation,"  or  other  ministerial  assem 
blages,  in  the  town,  when  the  parsonage  is  overflow-' 
ing,  and  Rachel,  with  a  simple  grace,  is  compelled  to 
do  the  honors  to  a  corps  of  the  Congregational  brother 
hood.  As  for  the  parson,  he  was  like  a  child  in  all 
household  matters.  Over  and  over  he  would  invite  his 
brethren  flocking  in  from  the  neighboring  villages  to 
pass  the  night  with  him,  when  Rachel  would  decoy  him 
into  a  corner,  and  declare,  with  a  most  pitiable  look  of 
distress,  that  not  a  bed  was  unoccupied  in  the  house. 
Whereupon  the  gooclman  would  quietly  take  his  hat, 
and  trudge  away  to  Squire  Elderkin's,  or,  on  rarer  oc 
casions  to  Deacon  Tourtelot's,  and  ask  the  favor  of 
lodging  with  them  one  of  his  clerical  brethren. 

At  other  times,  before  some  such  occasion  of  clerical 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  61 

entertainment,  the  little  housewife,  supported  by  Esther 
with  broom  and  a  great  array  of  mops,  would  wait  upon 
the  parson  in  his  study  and  order  him  away  to  his  walk 
in  the  orchard,  —  an  order  which  the  poor  man  never 
ventured  to  resist ;  but,  taking  perhaps  a  pocket  volume 
of  Doddridge,  or  of  Cowper,  —  the  only  poet  he  habitu 
ally  read,  —  he  would  sally  out  with  hat  and  cane,  — 
this  latter  a  gift  of  an  admiring  parishioner,  which  it 
pleased  Rachel  he  should  use,  and  which  she  always 
brought  to  him  at  such  times,  with  a  winning,  mischiev 
ous  look  of  half-entreaty  and  half-command  that  it  was 
not  in  his  heart  to  resist,  and  which  on  rare  occasions 
(that  were  subject  of  self-accusation  afterward)  pro 
voked  him  to  an  answering  kiss.  At  which  Rachel :  — 

"  Now  go  and  leave  us,  please ;  there  's  a  good  man  ! 
And  mind,"  (shaking  her  forefinger  at  him,)  "dinner  at 
half  past  twelve :  Larkin  will  blow  the  shell." 

The  parson,  as  he  paced  back  and  forth  under  the 
apple-trees,  out  of  sight,  and  feeling  the  need  of  more 
vigorous  exercise  than  his  usual  meditative  gait  af 
forded,  would  on  occasions  brandish  his  cane  and  as 
sume  a  military  air  and  stride,  (he  remembered  the 
Major's  only  too  well,)  getting  in  a  glow  with  the  un 
usual  movement,  and  in  the  heat  of  it  thanking  God 
for  all  the  blessings  that  had  befallen  him :  a  pleasant 
home  ;  a  loving  wife  ;  a  little  boy  to  bear  the  name,  in 
which,  with  all  his  spiritual  tendencies,  he  yet  took  a 


62  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

very  human  pride  ;  health,  —  and  he  whisked  his  cane 
as  vigorously  as  ever  the  Major  had  done  his  cumbrous 
sword,  —  the  world's  comforts ;  a  congregation  that  met 
him  kindly,  that  listened  kindly.  Was  he  not  leading 
them  in  the  path  of  salvation,  and  rejoicing  in  the  lead 
ership  ? 

And  then,  to  himself,  —  "Be  careful,  careful,  Benja 
min  Johns,  that  you  take  not  too  great  a  pride  in  this 
work  and  home  of  yours.  You  are  but  an  instrument  in 
greater  hands  ;  He  doeth  with  you  what  seemeth  Him 
best.  Let  not  the  enticements  of  the  world  be  too 
near  your  thought."  In  this  way  it  was  that  the  minis 
ter  pruned  clown  all  the  shoots  of  his  natural  affections, 
lest  they  might  prove  a  decoy  to  him,  and  wrapped  him 
self  ever  more  closely  in  the  rigors  of  his  chosen  the 
ology. 

As  the  boy  Reuben  grows,  and  gains  a  firmer  footing, 
he  sometimes  totters  beside  the  clergyman  in  these  or 
chard  walks,  clinging  blindly  to  his  hand,  and  lifting  his 
uncertain  feet  with  great  effort  over  the  interrupting 
tufts  of  grass,  unheeded  by  the  minister,  who  is  ponder 
ing  some  late  editorial  of  the  "  Boston  Recorder."  But 
far  oftener  the  boy  is  with  the  mother,  burying  his  face 
in  that  dear  lap  of  hers,  —  lifting  the  wet  face  to  have 
tears  kissed  away  and  forgotten.  And  as  he  thrives  and 
takes  the  strength  of  three  or  four  years,  he  walks  beside 
her  under  the  trees  of  the  village  street,  clad  in  such 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  63 

humble  finery  as  the  Handby  grandparents  may  have 
bestowed ;  and  he  happens  oftenest,  on  these  strolls  with 
Rachel,  into  the  hospitable  home  of  the  Elderkins, 
where  there  are  little  ones  to  romp  with  the  boy.  Most 
noticeable  of  all,  just  now,  one  Philip  Elderkin,  (of 
whom  more  will  have  to  be  said  as  this  story  pro 
gresses,)  only  a  year  the  senior  of  Reuben,  but  of  far 
stouter  frame,  who  looks  admiringly  on  the  minister's 
child,  and  as  he  grows  warm  in  play  frights  him  with 
some  show  of  threat,  which  makes  the  little  Reuben  run 
for  cover  to  the  arms  of  Rachel.  Whereat  the  mother 
kisses  him  into  boldness,  and  tells  him  that  Phil  is  a 
good  boy  and  means  no  harm  to  him. 

Often,  too,  in  the  square-topped  chaise,  the  child  is 
seated  on  a  little  stool  between  the  parson  and  his  wife, 
as  they  drive  away  upon  their  visits  to  the  outskirts  of 
the  parish, — puzzling  them  with  those  strange  questions 
which  come  from  a  boy  just  exploring  his  way  into  the 
world  of  talk. 

"  Benjamin,"  says  Rachel,  as  they  were  nearing  home 
upon  one  of  these  drives,  "  Reuben  is  quite  a  large  boy 
now,  you  know ;  have  you  ever  written  to  your  friend, 
Mr.  Maverick  ?  You  remember  he  promised  a  gift  for 
him." 

"Never,"  said  the  minister,  whose  goodness  rarely 
took  the  shape  of  letter- writing,  —  least  of  all  where 
the  task  would  seem  to  remind  of  a  promised  favor. 


64  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

"  You  've  not  forgotten  it  ?  You  've  not  forgotten  Mr. 
Maverick?  " 

"  Not  forgotten,  Rachel,  —  not  forgotten  to  pray  for 
him." 

"  I  would  write,  Benjamin  ;  it  might  be  something 
that  would  be  of  service  to  Reuben.  Please  don't  for 
get  it,  Benjamin." 

And  the  minister  promised. 


X. 

TN  the  autumn  of  1824,  —  the  minister  of  Ashfield 
being  still  in  good  favor  with  nearly  all  his  parish 
ioners,  and  his  wife  Rachel  being  still  greatly  beloved, 
—  a  rumor  ran  through  the  town,  one  day,  that  there 
was  serious  illness  at  the  parsonage,  the  Doctor's  horse 
and  saddle-bags  being  observed  in  waiting  at  the  front 
gate  for  two  hours  together.  Following  close  upon  this, 
the  Tew  partners  reported  —  having  received  un 
doubted  information  from  Larkin,  who  still  kept  in  his 
old  service  —  that  a  daughter  was  born  to  the  minister, 
but  so  feeble  that  there  were  grave  doubts  if  the  young 
Rachel  could  survive.  The  report  was  well  founded ; 
and  after  three  or  four  days  of  desperate  struggle  with 
life,  the  poor  child  dropped  away.  Thus  death  came 
into  the  parsonage  with  so  faint  and  shadowy  a  tread, 
it  hardly  startled  one.  The  babe  had  been  christened 
in  the  midst  of  its  short  struggle,  and  in  this  the  father 
found  such  comfort  as  he  could ;  yet  reckoning  the  poor, 
fluttering  little  soul  as  a  sinner  in  Adam,  through  whom 
all  men  fell,  he  confided  it  with  a  great  sigh  to  God. 
It  would  have  been  well,  if  his  grief  had  rested  there. 

VOL.  I.  5 


66  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

But  two  days  thereafter  there  was  a  rumor  on  the 
village  street,  —  flying  like  the  wind,  as  such  rumors 
do,  from  house  to  house,  — "  The  minister's  wife  is 
dead ! " 

"I  want  to  know!"  said  Mrs.  Tew,  lifting  herself 
from  her  task  of  assorting  the  mail,  and  removing  her 
spectacles  in  nervous  haste.  "  Do  tell !  It  a'n't  possi 
ble  !  Miss  Johns  dead  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  says  Larkin,  "  as  true  as  I  live,  she  's  dead ; " 
and  his  voice  broke  as  he  said  it,  —  the  kind  little 
woman  had  so  won  upon  him. 

Squire  Elderkin,  like  a  good  Christian,  came  hurrying 
to  the  parsonage  to  know  what  this  strange  report  could 
mean.  The  study  was  unoccupied.  With  the  famil 
iarity  of  an  old  friend  he  made  his  way  up  the  cramped 
stairs.  The  chamber-door  was  flung  wide  open  :  there 
was  no  reason  why  the  whole  parish  might  not  come  in. 
The  nurse,  sobbing  in  a  corner,  was  swaying  back  and 
forth,  her  hands  folded  across  her  lap.  Reuben,  cling 
ing  to  the  coverlet,  was  feeling  his  way  along  the  bed,  if 
by  chance  his  mother's  hand  might  catch  hold  upon  his ; 
and  the  minister  standing  with  a  chair  before  him,  his 
eyes  turned  to  heaven  (the  same  calm  attitude  which  he 
took  at  his  evening  prayer-meeting),  was  entreating  God 
to  "  be  over  his  house,  to  strengthen  him,  to  pour  down 
his  Spirit  on  him,  to  bind  up  the  bruised  hearts, —  to 
spare,  —  spare  " 


DOCTOR    JOHNS.  67 

Even  the  stout  Squire  Elderkin  withdraws  outside  the 
door,  that  he  may  the  better  conceal  his  emotion. 

The  death  happened  on  a  Friday.  The  Squire,  after 
a  few  faltering  expressions  of  sympathy,  asked  regard 
ing  the  burial.  "  Should  it  not  be  on  Sunday  ?  '' 

"  Not  on  Sunday,"  said  Mr.  Johns  ;  "  God  help  rne, 
Squire,  —  but  this  is  not  a  work  of  necessity  or  mercy. 
Let  it  be  on  Monday." 

"  On  Monday,  then,"  said  Elderkin,  — "  and  let  me 
take  the  arrangement  of  it  all  off  your  thought ;  and 
we  will  provide  some  one  to  preach  for  you  on  the 
Sabbath." 

"  No,  Mr.  Elderkin,  no  ;  I  am  always  myself  in  the 
pulpit.  I  shall  find  courage  there." 

And  he  did.  A  stranger  would  not  have  suspected 
that  the  preacher's  wife  lay  dead  at  home  ;  the  same 
unction  and  earnestness  that  had  always  characterized 
him  ;  the  same  unyielding  rigidity  of  doctrine  :  "  Except 
ye  repent,  ye  shall  all  likewise  perish" 

Once  only  —  it  was  in  the  reading  of  the  last  hymn 
in  the  afternoon  service  —  his  voice  broke,  and  he  sat 
down  half  through.  But  as  the  song  rose  under  the 
old  roof  of  the  meeting-house,  his  courage  rose  with 
it.  He  seemed  ashamed  of  the  transitory  weakness. 
What  right  had  he  to  bring  private  griefs  to  such  a 
place  ?  What  right  had  the  leader  to  faint,  when  the 
army  were  pressing  forward  to  the  triumph  God  had 


68  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

promised  to  the  faithful  ?  So  it  was  in  a  kind  of 
ecstasy  that  he  rose,  and  joined  with  a  firm,  loud  voice 
in  the  final  doxology. 

One  or  two  of  the  good  old  ladies,  with  a  sad  mis 
conception  of  the  force  that  was  in  him,  and  of  the 
divine  aid  which  seemed  vouchsafed  to  him  during 
the  service,  came  to  him,  as  he  passed  out,  to  give 
him  greeting  and  a  word  of  condolence.  For  that 
time  only  he  passed  them  by,  as  if  they  had  been 
wooden  images.  His  spirit  had  been  strained  to  its 
uttermost,  and  would  bear  no  more.  He  made  his 
way  home  with  an  ungainly,  swift  gait,  —  home  to  the 
dear  bedside,  —  down  upon  his  knees,  —  struggling 
with  his  weakness,  —  praying. 

At  the  tea-hour  Esther  knocked ;  but  in  vain.  An 
hour  after,  his  boy  came,  —  came  at  the  old  woman's 
suggestion,  (who  had  now  the  care  of  him,)  and  knelt 
by  his  side. 

"  Reuben,  —  my  boy  ! " 
"  She 's  in  heaven,  is  n't  she,  father  ?  " 
u  God   only   knows,   my   son.      He   hath  mercy  on 
whom  He  will  have  mercy." 

Small  as  he  was,  the  boy  flushed  at  this :  — 
"  I  think  it 's  a  bad  God,  if  she  is  n't  in  heaven." 
"  Nay,  Reuben,  little  one,  blaspheme  not :  His  ways 
are  not  as  our  ways.     Kiss  her  now,  and  we  will  sit 
down  to  our  supper." 


DOCTOR  JOHNS,  69 

And  so  they  passed  out  together  to  their  lonely 
repast.  It  had  been  a  cheerful  meal  in  days  gone, 
this  Sunday's  supper.  For  the  dinner,  owing  to  the 
scruples  of  the  parson,  was  but  a  cold  lunch  always ; 
and  in  the  excited  state  in  which  the  preacher  found 
himself  between  services,  there  was  little  of  speech  ; 
even  Reuben's  prattle,  if  he  ventured  upon  it,  caught 
a  quick  "  Hist ! "  from  the  mamma.  But  with  the 
return  of  Esther  from  the  afternoon  Bible-class,  there 
was  a  big  fire  lighted  in  the  kitchen,  and  some  warm 
dishes  served,  such  as  diffused  an  appetizing  odor 
through  the  house.  The  clergyman,  too,  wore  an  air 
of  relief,  having  preached  his  two  sermons,  and  show 
ing  a  capital  appetite,  like  most  men  who  have  ac 
quitted  themselves  of  a  fatiguing  duty.  Besides  which, 
the  parson  guarded  that  old  New  England  custom 
of  beginning  his  Sabbath  at  sundown  on  Saturday,  — 
so  that,  by  the  time  the  supper  of  Sunday  was  fairly 
over,  Reuben  could  be  counting  it  no  sin,  if  he  should 
steal  a  run  into  the  orchard.  Nay,  it  is  quite  proba 
ble  that  the  poor  little  woman  who  was  dead  had  al 
ways  welcomed  cheerily  the  opened  door  of  Sunday 
evening,  and  the  relaxing  gravity,  as  night  fell,  of  her 
husband's  starched  look. 

What  wonder,  if  she  had  loved,  even  as  much  as 
the  congregational  singing,  the  music  of  the  birds  at 
the  dusk  of  a  summer's  day  ?  It  was  hard  measure 


70  DOCTOR   JOHNS. 

which  many  of  the  old  divines  meted  out,  in  exclud 
ing  from  their  ideas  of  worship  all  alliance  with  the 
charms  of  Nature,  or  indeed  with  any  beauties  save 
those  which  were  purely  spiritual.  It  is  certain  that 
the  poor  woman  had  enjoyed  immensely  those  Sab 
bath-evening  strolls  through  the  garden  and  orchard, 
hand  in  hand  with  Reuben  and  the  minister,  —  with 
such  keen  and  exhilarating  sense  of  God's  goodness, 
of  trust  in  Him,  of  hope,  as  was  not  invariably  wak 
ened  by  the  sermons  of  her  Benjamin. 

On  the  evening  of  which  we  speak,  the  father  and 
son  walked  down  the  orchard  alone.  The  birds  sang 
their  merriest  as  day  closed  in  ;  and  as  they  turned 
upon  their  walk,  and  the  good  man  saw  through  the 
vista  of  garden  and  orchard  a  bright  light  flitting 
across  an  upper  window  of  his  house,  the  mad  hope 
flashed  upon  him  for  an  instant  (such  baseless  fancies 
will  sometimes  possess  the  calmest  minds)  that  she 
had  waked,  —  his  Rachel,  —  and  was  there  to  meet 
him.  The  next  moment  the  light  and  the  hope  were 
gone.  His  fingers  gave  such  a  convulsive  grip  iipon 
the  hand  of  his  little  boy  that  Reuben  cried  out  with 
pain,  "  Papa,  papa,  you  hurt  me  ! " 

The  parson  bent  down  and  kissed  him. 


XL 

Tf^HERE  were  scores  of  people  in  Ashfield  who 
-*-  would  have  been  delighted  to  speak  consolation 
to  the  bereaved  clergyman  ;  but  he  was  not  a  man  to 
be  approached  easily  with  the  ordinary  phrases  of 
sympathy.  He  bore  himself  too  sternly  under  his 
grief.  What,  indeed,  can  be  said  in  the  face  of  afflic 
tion,  where  the  manner  of  the  sufferer  seems  to  say, 
"  God  has  done  it,  and  God  does  all  things  well "  ? 
Ordinary  human  sympathy  falls  below  such  a  stand 
point,  and  is  wasted  in  the  utterance. 

Yet  there  are  those  who  delight  in  breaking  in  upon 
the  serene  dignity  which  this  condition  of  mind  im 
plies  with  a  noisy  proffer  of  consolation,  and  an  aggra 
vating  rehearsal  of  the  occasion  for  it ;  as  if  such  com 
forters  entertained  a  certain  jealousy  of  the  serenity 
they  do  not  comprehend,  and  were  determined  to  test 
its  sufficiency.  Dame  Tourtelot  was  eminently  such 
a  person. 

"  It 's  a  dreadful  blow  to  ye,  Mr.  Johns,"  said  she  ; 
"  I  know  it  is.  Almiry  is  a'most  as  much  took  down 
by  it  as  you  are.  '  She  was  such  a  lovely  woman,' 


72  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

she  says ;  and  the  poor,  dear  little  boy,  —  won't  you 
let  him  come  and  pass  a  day  or  two  with  us  ?  Almiry 
is  very  fond  of  children." 

"Later,  later,  my  good  woman,"  said  the  parson. 
"  I  can't  spare  the  boy  now ;  the  house  is  too  empty." 

"  O  Mr.  Johns,  —  the  poor  lonely  thing  !  "  (And 
she  says  this,  with  her  hands  in  black  mits,  clasped 
together.)  "It's  a  bitter  blow!  As  I  was  a-sayin' 
to  the  Deacon,  '  Such  a  lovely  young  woman,  and  such 
a  good  comfortable  home,  and  she,  poor  thing,  enjoyin' 
it  so  much  ! '  I  do  hope  you  '11  bear  up  under  it, 
Mr.  Johns." 

"  By  God's  help,  I  will,  my  good  woman." 

Dame  Tourtelot  was  disappointed  to  find  the  par 
son  wincing  so  little  as  he  did  under  her  stimulative 
sympathy.  On  returning  home,  she  opened  her  views 
to  the  Deacon  in  this  style :  — 

"  Tourtelot,  the  parson  is  not  so  much  broke  down 
by  this  as  we  've  been  thinkin' ;  he  was  as  cool,  when 
I  spoke  to  him  to-day,  as  any  man  I  ever  see  in  my 
life.  The  truth  is,  she  was  a  flighty  young  person, 
noways  equal  to  the  parson.  I  've  been  a-suspectin' 
it,  this  long  while  ;  she  never,  in  my  opinion,  took  a 
real  hard  hold  upon  him.  But,  Tourtelot,  you  should 
go  and  see  Mr.  Johns ;  and  I  hope  you  '11  talk  con 
solingly  and  Scripterally  to  him.  It 's  your  duty." 

And  hereupon  she  shifted  the  needles  in  her  knit- 


DOCTOR  JOHNS,  73 

ting,  and,  smoothing  down  the  big  blue  stocking-leg 
over  her  knee,  cast  a  glance  at  the  Deacon  which  sig 
nified  command.  The  dame  was  thoroughly  mistress 
in  her  own  household,  as  well  as  in  the  households 
of  not  a  few  of  her  neighbors.  Long  before,  the 
meek,  mild-mannered  little  man  who  was  her  hus 
band  had  by  her  active  and  resolute  negotiation  been 
made  a  deacon  of  the  parish,  —  for  which  office  he 
was  not  indeed  ill  fitted,  being  religiously  disposed, 
strict  in  his  observance  of  all  duties,  and  well-grounded 
in  the  Larger  Catechism.  He  had,  moreover,  certain 
secular  endowments  which  were  even  more  marked, 
—  among  them,  a  wonderful  instinct  at  a  bargain, 
which  had  been  polished  by  Dame  Tourtelot's  su 
perior  address  to  a  wonderful  degree  of  sharpness ; 
and  by  reason  of  this  the  less  respectful  of  the  towns 
people  were  accustomed  to  say,  "  The  Deacon  is  very 
small  at  home,  but  great  in  a  trade."  Not  that  the 
Deacon  could  by  any  means  be  called  an  avaricious 
or  miserly  man  :  he  had  always  his  old  Spanish  milled 
quarter  ready  for  the  contribution-box  upon  Collec 
tion-Sundays  ;  and  no  man  in  the  parish  brought  a 
heavier  turkey  to  the  parson's  larder  on  donation- 
days  ;  but  he  could  no  more  resist  the  sharpening  of 
a  bargain  than  he  could  resist  a  command  of  his  wife. 
He  talked  of  a  good  trade  to  the  old  heads  up  and 
down  the  village  street  as  a  lad  talks  of  a  new  toy. 


74  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

"  Squire,"  he  would  say,  addressing  a  neighbor  on 
the  Common,  "  what  do  you  s'pose  I  paid  for  that 
brindle  ye'rlin'  o'  mine  ?  Give  us  a  guess." 

"  Waal,  Deacon,  I  guess  you  paid  about  ten  dollars." 

"  Only  eight ! "  the  Deacon  would  say,  with  a  smile 
that  was  fairly  luminous,  —  "  and  a  pootty  likely  crit 
ter  I  call  it  for  eight  dollars." 

"  Five  hogs  this  year,"  (in  this  way  the  Deacon  was 
used  to  soliloquize,)  —  "I  hope  to  make  'em  three 
hundred  apiece.  The  price  works  up  about  Christ 
mas  ;  Deacon  Simmons  has  sold  his'n  at  five,  —  dis 
tillery-pork  ;  that 's  sleezy,  wastes  in  bilin' ;  folks  know 
it :  mine,  bein'  corn-fed,  ought  to  bring  half  a  cent 
more,  —  and  say,  for  Christmas,  six ;  that  '11  give  a 
gain  of  a  cent,  —  on  five  hogs,  at  three  hundred 
apiece,  will  be  fifteen  dollars.  That  '11  pay  half  my 
pew-rent,  and  leave  somethin'  over  for  Ahniry,  who  's 
always  wantin'  fresh  ribbons  about  New- Year's." 

The  Deacon  cherished  a  strong  dread  of  formal 
visits  to  the  parsonage ;  first,  because  it  involved  his 
Sunday  toilet,  in  which  he  was  never  easy,  except  at 
conference  or  in  his  pew  at  the  meeting-house  ;  and 
next,  because  he  counted  it  necessary  on  such  oc 
casions  to  give  a  Scriptural  garnish  to  his  talk,  in 
which  attempt  he  almost  always,  under  the  authorita 
tive  look  of  the  parson,  blundered  into  difficulty.  Yet 
Tourtelot,  in  obedience  to  his  wife's  suggestion,  and 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  75 

primed  with  a  text  from  Matthew,  undertook  the  visit 
of  condolence,  — and,  being  a  really  kind-hearted  man, 
bore  himself  well  in  it.  Over  and  over  the  good  par 
son  shook  his  hand  in  thanks. 

"  It  '11  all  be  right,"  says  the  Deacon.  "  '  Blessed 
are  the  mourners,'  is  the  Scripteral  language,  '  for  they 
shall  inherit  the  earth.'  " 

"  No,  not  that,  Deacon,"  says  the  minister,  to  whom 
a  misquotation  was  like  a  wound  in  the  flesh ;  "  the 
last  thing  I  want  is  to  inherit  the  earth.  '  They  shall 
be  comforted,'  —  that's  the  promise,  Deacon,  and  I 
count  on  it." 

It  was  mortifying  to  his  visitor  to  be  caught  nap 
ping  on  so  familiar  a  text ;  the  parson  saw  it,  and 
spoke  consolingly.  But  if  not  strong  in  texts,  the  Dea 
con  knew  what  his  strong  points  were  ;  so,  before  leav 
ing,  he  invites  a  little  off-hand  discussion  of  more 
familiar  topics. 

"  Pootty  tight  spell  o'  weather  we  've  been  havin', 
Parson." 

"  Rather  cool,  certainly,"  says  the  unsuspecting 
clergyman. 

"  Got  all  your  winter's  stock  o'  wood  in  yit  ?  " 

"  No,  I  have  n't,"  says  the  parson. 

"  Waiil,  Mr.  Johns,  I  've  got  a  lot  of  pastur'-hickory 
cut  and  corded,  that 's  well  seared  over  now,  —  and 
if  you  'd  like  some  of  it,  I  can  let  you  have  it  very 
reasonable  indeed." 


76  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

The  sympathy  of  the  Elderkins,  if  less  formal,  was 
none  the  less  hearty.  The  Squire  had  been  largely 
instrumental  in  securing  the  settlement  of  Mr.  Johns, 
and  had  been  a  political  friend  of  his  father's.  In 
early  life  he  had  been  engaged  in  the  West  India 
trade  from  the  neighboring  port  of  Middletown ;  and 
on  one  or  two  occasions  he  had  himself  made  the 
voyage  to  Porto  Rico,  taking  out  a  cargo  of  horses, 
and  bringing  back  sugar,  molasses,  and  rum.  But 
it  was  remarked  approvingly  in  the  bar-room  of  the 
Eagle  Tavern  that  this  foreign  travel  had  not  made 
the  Squire  proud,  —  nor  yet  the  moderate  fortune 
which  he  had  secured  by  the  business,  in  which  he 
was  still  understood  to  bear  an  interest.  His  pater 
nal  home  in  Ashfield  he  had  fitted  up  some  years 
before  with  balustrade  and  other  architectural  adorn 
ments,  which,  it  was  averred  by  the  learned  in  those 
matters,  were  copied  from  certain  palatial  residences 
in  the  "West  Indies. 

The  Squire  united  eminently  in  himself  all  those 
qualities  which  a  Connecticut  observer  of  those  times 
expressed  by  the  words,  "  right  down  smart  man."  Not 
a  turnpike  enterprise  could  be  started  in  that  quarter 
of  the  State,  but  the  Squire  was  enlisted,  and  as  share 
holder  or  director  contributed  to  its  execution.  A 
clear-headed,  kindly,  energetic  man,  never  idle,  prone 
rather  to  do  needless  things  than  to  do  nothing ;  an  ar- 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  77 

dent  disciple  of  the  Jeffersonian  school,  and  in  this  com 
bating-  many  of  those  who  relied  most  upon  his  sagacity 
in  matters  of  business  ;  a  man,  in  short,  about  whom  it 
was  always  asked,  in  regard  to  any  question  of  town  or 
State  policy,  "  What  does  the  Squire  think  ?  "  or  "  How 
does  the  Squire  mean  to  vote  ? "  And  the  Squire's 
opinion  was  sure  to  be  a  round,  hearty  one,  which  he 
came  by  honestly,  and  about  which  one  who  thought 
differently  might  safely  rally  his  columns  of  attack. 
The  opinion  of  Giles  Elderkin  was  not  inquired  into  for 
the  sake  of  a  tame  following-after,  —  that  was  not  the 
Connecticut  mode,  —  but  for  the  sake  of  discussing  and 
toying  with  it :  very  much  as  a  sly  old  grimalkin  toys 
with  a  mouse,  —  now  seeming  to  entertain  it  kindly, 
then  giving  it  a  run,  then  leaping  after  it,  crunching  a 
limb  of  it,  bearing  it  off  into  some  private  corner,  giv 
ing  it  a  new  escape,  swallowing  it  perhaps  at  last,  and 
appropriating  it  by  long  process  of  digestion.  And 
even  then,  the  shrewd  Connecticut  man,  if  accused  of 
modulating  his  own  opinions  after  those  of  the  Squire, 
would  say,  "  No,  I  allers  thought  so." 

Such  a  man  as  Giles  Elderkin  is  of  course  ready  with 
a  hearty,  outspoken  word  of  cheer  for  his  minister. 
Nay,  the  very  religion  of  the  Squire,  which  the  parson 
had  looked  upon  as  somewhat  discursive  and  human,  — 
giving  too  large  a  place  to  good  works,  —  was  decisive 
and  to  the  point  in  the  present  emergency. 


78  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

"  It 's  God's  doing,"  said  he  ;  "  we  must  take  the  cup 
He  gives  us.  For  the  best,  is  n't  it,  Parson  ?  " 

"  I  do,  Squire.     Thank  God,  I  can." 

There  was  good  Mrs.  Elderkin  —  who  made  up  by 
her  devotion  to  the  special  tenets  of  the  clergyman 
many  of  the  shortcomings  of  the  Squire  —  insisted 
upon  sending  for  the  poor  boy  Reuben,  that  he  might 
forget  his  grief  in  her  kindness,  and  in  frolic  with  the 
Elderkins  through  that  famous  garden,  with  its  huge 
hedges  of  box,  —  such  a  garden  as  was  certainly  not  to 
be  matched  elsewhere  in  Ashfield.  The  same  good 
woman,  too,  sends  down  a  wagon-load  of  substantial 
things  from  her  larder,  for  the  present  relief  of  the 
stricken  household ;  to  which  the  Squire  has  added  a 
little  round  jug  of  choice  Santa  Cruz  rum,  —  remember 
ing  the  long  watches  of  the  parson.  This  may  shock 
us  now  ;  and  yet  it  is  to  be  feared  that  in  our  day  the  sin 
of  hypocrisy  is  to  be  added  to  the  sin  of  indulgence : 
the  old  people  nestled  under  no  cover  of  liver  specifics 
or  bitters.  Reform  has  made  a  grand  march  indeed  ; 
but  the  Devil,  with  his  square  bottles  and  Scheidam 
schnapps,  has  kept  a  pretty  even  pace  with  it. 


XII. 

E  boy  Reuben,  in  those  first  weeks  after  his  loss, 
wandered  about  as  if  in  a  maze,  wondering  at  the 
great  blank  that  death  had  made  ;  or,  warming  himself 
at  some  out-door  sport,  he  rushed  in  with  a  pleasant 
forgetfulness,  —  shouting,  —  up  the  stairs,  —  to  the  ac 
customed  door,  and  bursts  in  upon  the  cold  chamber,  so 
long  closed,  where  the  bitter  knowledge  comes  upon 
him  fresh  once  more.  Esther,  good  soul  that  she  is 
has  heard  his  clatter  upon  the  floor,  his  bound  at  the 
old  latch,  and,  fancying  what  it  may  mean,  has  come  up 
in  time  to  soothe  him  and  bear  him  off  with  her.  The 
parson,  forging  some  sermon  for  the  next  Sabbath,  in 
the  room  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  hears,  may  be,  the 
stifled  sobbing  of  the  boy,  as  the  good  Esther  half  leads 
and  half  drags  him  down,  and  opens  his  door  upon 
them. 

"  What  now,  Esther  ?    Has  Reuben  caught  a  fall  ?  " 
"  No,  sir,  no  fall ;  he  's  not  harmed,  sir.      It 's  only 
the  old  room,  you  know,  sir,  and  he  quite  forgot  him 
self." 

"  Poor  boy  !    Will  he  come  with  me,  Esther  ?  " 


80  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

"  No,  Mr.  Johns.  I  '11  find  something  '11  amuse  him  ; 
hey,  Ruby?" 

And  the  parson  goes  back  to  his  desk,  where  he  for 
gets  himself  in  the  glow  of  that  great  work  of  his.  He 
has  been  taught,  as  never  before,  that  "  all  flesh  is 
grass."  He  accepts  his  loss  as  a  punishment  for  having 
thought  too  much  and  fondly  of  the  blessings  of  this 
life  ;  henceforth  the  flesh  and  its  affections  shall  be 
mortified  in  him.  He  has  transferred  his  bed  to  a  little 
chamber  which  opens  from  his  study  in  the  rear,  and 
which  is  at  the  end  of  the  long  dining-room,  where 
every  morning  and  evening  the  prayers  are  said,  as 
before.  The  parishioners  see  a  light  burning  in  the 
window  of  his  study  far  into  the  night. 

For  a  time  his  sermons  are  more  emotional  than  be 
fore.  Oftener  than  in  the  earlier  days  of  his  settlement 
he  indulges  in  a  forecast  of  those  courts  toward  which 
he  would  conduct  his  people,  and  which  a  merciful  God 
has  provided  for  those  who  trust  in  Him  ;  and  there  is 
a  coloring  in  these  pictures  which  his  sermons  never 
showed  in  the  years  gone. 

"  We  ask  ourselves,"  said  he,  "  my  brethren,  if  we 
shall  knowingly  meet  there  —  where  we  trust  His  grace 
may  give  us  entrance  —  those  from  whom  you  and  I 
have  parted ;  whether  a  fond  and  joyous  welcome  shall 
greet  us,  not  alone  from  Him  whom  to  love  is  life,  but 
from  those  dear  ones  who  seem  to  our  poor  senses  to  be 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  81 

resting  under  the  sod  yonder.  Sometimes  I  believe 
that  by  God's  great  goodness,"  (and  here  he  looked,  not 
at  his  people,  but  above,  and  kept  his  eye  fixed  there) 
—  "I  believe  that  we  shall ;  that  His  great  love  shall 
so  delight  in  making  complete  our  happiness,  even  by 
such  little  memorials  of  our  earthly  affections  (which 
must  seem  like  waifs  of  thistle-down  beside  the  great 
harvest  of  His  abounding  grace) ;  that  all  the  dear 
faces  of  those  written  in  the  Golden  Book  shall  beam  a 
welcome,  all  the  more  bounteous  because  reflecting  His 
joy  who  has  died  to  save." 

And  the  listeners  whispered  each  other  as  he  paused, 
"  He  thinks  of  Rachel." 

With  his  eyes  still  fixed  above,  he  goes  on,  — 

"  Sometimes  I  think  thus  ;  but  oflener  I  ask  myself, 
'Of  what  value  shall  human  ties  be,  or  their  memories, 
in  His  august  presence  whom  to  look  upon  is  life  ? 
What  room  shall  there  be  for  other  affections,  what 
room  for  other  memories,  than  those  of  "  the  Lamb  that 
was  slain  "  ? ' 

"  Nay,  my  brethren,"  (and  here  he  turns  his  eyes 
upon  them  again,)  "  we  do  know  in  our  hearts  that 
many  whom  we  have  loved  fondly  —  infants,  fathers, 
mothers,  wives,  may  be  —  shall  never,  never  sit  with 
the  elect  in  Paradise  ;  and  shall  we  remember  these 
in  heaven,  going  away  to  dwell  with  the  Devil  and  his 
angels  ?  Shall  we  be  tortured  with  the  knowledge  that 


82  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

some  poor  babe  we  looked  upon  only  for  an  hour  is 
wearing  out  ages  of  suffering  ?  '  No,'  you  may  say,  '  for 
we  shall  be  possessed  in  that  day  of  such  sense  of  the 
ineffable  justice  of  God,  and  of  His  judgments,  that  all 
shall  seem  right.'  Yet,  my  brethren,  if  this  sense  of 
His  supreme  justice  shall  overrule  all  the  old  longings 
of  our  hearts,  even  to  the  suppression  of  the  dearest 
ties  of  earth,  where  they  conflict  with  His  ordained  pur 
pose,  will  they  not  also  overrule  all  the  longings  in  re 
spect  of  friends  who  are  among  the  elect,  in  such  sort 
that  the  man  we  counted  our  enemy,  the  man  we 
avoided  on  earth,  if  so  be  he  have  an  inheritance  in 
heaven,  shall  be  met  with  the  same  yearning  of  the  heart 
as  if  he  were  our  brother  ?  Does  this  sound  harshly, 
my  brethren  ?  Ah,  let  us  beware,  —  let  us  beware  how 
we  entertain  any  opinions  of  that  future  condition  of 
holiness  and  of  joy  promised  to  the  elect,  which  are 
dependent  upon  these  gross  attachments  of  earth,  which 
are  colored  by  our  short-sighted  views,  which  are  not 
in  every  iota  accordant  with  the  universal  love  of  Him 
who  is  our  Master  !  " 

"  This  man  lives  above  the  world,"  said  the  people  ; 
and  if  some  of  them  did  not  give  very  cordial  assent  to 
these  latter  views,  they  smothered  their  dissent  by  a 
lofty  expression  of  admiration  ;  they  felt  it  a  duty  to 
give  them  open  acceptance,  to  venerate  the  speaker  the 
more  by  reason  of  their  utterance.  And  yet  their  lim- 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  83 

ited  acceptance  diffused  a  certain  chill,  very  likely,  over 
their  religious  meditations.  But  it  was  a  chill  which 
unfortunately  they  counted  it  good  to  entertain,  —  a 
rigor  of  faith  that  must  needs  be  borne.  It  is  doubtful, 
indeed,  if  they  did  not  make  a  merit  of  their  placid  in 
tellectual  admission  of  such  beliefs  as  most  violated  the 
natural  sensibilities  of  the  heart.  They  were  so  sure 
that  affectionate  instincts  were  by  nature  wrong  in  their 
tendencies,  so  eager  to  cumulate  evidences  of  the  origi 
nal  depravity,  that,  when  their  parson  propounded  a 
theory  that  gave  a  shock  to  their  natural  affections,  they 
submitted  with  a  kind  of  heroic  pride,  however  much 
their  hearts  might  make  silent  protest,  and  the  grounds 
of  such  a  protest  they  felt  a  cringing  unwillingness  to 
investigate.  There  was  a  determined  shackling  of  all 
the  passional  nature.  What  wonder  that  religion  took  a 
harsh  aspect  ?  As  if  mere  intellectual  adhesion  to  the 
ological  formulas  were  to  pave  our  way  to  a  knowledge 
of  the  Infinite  !  —  as  if  our  sensibilities  were  to  be  out 
raged  in  the  march  to  heaven  !  —  as  if  all  the  emo 
tional  nature  were  to  be  clipped  away  by  the  shears  of 
the  doctors,  leaving  only  the  metaphysic  ghost  of  a  soul 
to  enter  upon  the  joys  of  Paradise  ! 

Within  eight  months  after  his  loss,  Mr.  Johns  thought 
of  Rachel  only  as  a  gift  that  God  had  bestowed  to  try 
him,  and  had  taken  away  to  work  in  him  a  humiliation 
of  the  heart.  More  severely  than  ever  he  wrestled 


84  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

with  the  dogmas  of  his  chosen  divines,  harnessed  them 
to  his  purposes  as  preacher,  and  wrought  on  with  a  zeal 
that  knew  no  abatement  and  no  rest. 

In  the  spring  of  1825  Mr.  Johns  was  invited  by  Gov 
ernor  Wolcott  to  preach  the  Election  Sermon  before 
the  Legislature  convened  at  Hartford:  an  honorable 
duty,  and  one  which  he  was  abundantly  competent  to 
fulfill.  The  "  Hartford  Courant  "  of  that  date  said,  — 
"  A  large  auditory  was  collected  last  week  to  listen  to 
the  Election  Sermon  by  Mr.  Johns,  minister  of  Ash- 
field.  It  was  a  sound,  orthodox,  and  interesting  dis 
course,  and  won  the  undivided  attention  of  all  the  list 
eners.  "We  have  not  recently  listened  to  a  sermon 
more  able  or  eloquent." 

In  that  day  even  country  editors  were  church-goers 
and  God-fearing  men. 


XIII. 

TN  the  latter  part  of  the  summer  of  1826,  —  a  reas- 
'-  enable  time  having  now  elapsed  since  the  death  of 
poor  Rachel,  —  the  gossips  of  Ashfield  began  to  discuss 
the  lonely  condition  of  their  pastor,  in  connection  with 
any  desirable  or  feasible  amendment  of  it.  The  sin  of 
such  gossip  —  if  it  be  a  sin  —  is  one  that  all  the 
preaching  in  the  world  will  never  extirpate  from  coun 
try  towns,  where  the  range  of  talk  is  by  the  necessity 
of  the  case  exceedingly  limited.  In  the  city,  curiosity 
has  an  omnivorous  maw  by  reason  of  position,  and  finds 
such  variety  to  feed  upon  that  it  is  rarely  —  except  in 
the  case  of  great  political  or  public  scandal  —  personal 
in  its  attentions  ;  and  what  we  too  freely  reckon  a  per 
verted  and  impertinent  country  taste  is  but  an  ordinary 
appetite  of  humanity,  which,  by  the  limitation  of  its 
feeding-ground,  seems  to  attach  itself  perversely  to  pri 
vate  relations. 

There  were  some  invidious  persons  in  the  town  who 
had  remarked  that  Miss  Almira  Tourtelet  had  brought 
quite  a  new  fervor  to  her  devotional  exercises  in  the 
parish  within  the  last  year,  as  well  as  a  new  set  of  rib- 


86  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

bons  to  her  hat ;  and  two  maiden  ladies  opposite,  of 
distinguished  pretensions  and  long  experience  of  life, 
had  observed  that  the  young  Reuben,  on  his  passage 
back  and  forth  from  the  Elderkins,  had  sometimes  been 
decoyed  within  the  Tourtelot  yard,  and  presented  by  the 
admiring  Dame  Tourtelot  with  fresh  doughnuts.  The 
elderly  maiden  ladies  were  perhaps  uncharitable  in 
their  conclusions  ;  yet  it  is  altogether  probable  that  the 
Deacon  and  his  wife  may  have  considered,  in  the  inti 
macy  of  their  fireside  talk,  the  possibility  of  some  time 
claiming  the  minister  as  a  son-in-law.  Questions  like 
this  are  discussed  in  a  great  many  families  even  now. 

Dame  Tourtelot  had  crowned  with  success  all  her 
schemes  in  life,  save  one.  Almira,  her  daughter,  now 
verging  upon  her  thirty-second  year,  had  long  been 
upon  the  anxious-seat  as  regarded  matrimony ;  and 
with  a  sentimental  turn  that  incited  much  reading  of 
Cowper  and  Montgomery  and  (if  it  must  be  told) 
"  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw,"  the  poor  girl  united  a  sickly, 
in-door  look,  and  a  peaked  countenance,  which  had  not 
attracted  wooers.  The  wonderful  executive  capacity  of 
the  mother  had  unfortunately  debarred  her  from  any 
active  interest  in  the  household  ;  and  though  the  Tour- 
telots  had  actually  been  at  the  expense  of  providing  a 
piano  for  Almira,  (the  only  one  in  Ashfield,)  —  upon 
which  the  poor  girl  thrummed,  thinking  of  "  Thaddeus," 
and,  we  trust,  of  better  things,  —  this  had  not  won  a 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  87 

roseate  hue  to  her  face,  or  quickened  in  any  percepti 
ble  degree  the  alacrity  of  her  admirers. 

Upon  a  certain  night  of  later  October,  after  Almira 
has  retired,  and  when  the  Tourtelots  are  seated  by  the 
little  fire,  which  the  autumn  chills  have  rendered  nec 
essary,  and  into  the  embers  of  which  the  Deacon  has 
cautiously  thrust  the  leg  of  one  of  the  fire-dogs,  pre 
paratory  to  a  modest  mug  of  flip,  (with  which,  by  his 
wife's  permission,  he  occasionally  indulges  himself,)  the 
good  dame  calls  out  to  her  husband,  who  is  dozing  in 
his  chair,  — 

«  Tourtelot ! " 

But  she  is  not  loud  enough. 

"  TOUKTELOT  !  you're  asleep  !  " 

"No,"  says  the  Deacon,  rousing  himself,  —  "only 
thinkin' ." 

«  What  are  you  thiukin'  of,  Tourtelot  ?  " 

"  Thinkin'  —  thinkin',"  says  the  Deacon,  rasped  by 
the  dame's  sharpness  into  sudden  mental  effort,  — 
"  thinkin',  Huldy,  if  it  is  n't  about  time  to  butcher  :  we 
butchered  last  year  nigh  upon  the  twentieth." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  says  the  dame  ;  "  what  about  the  par 
son  ?  " 

"  The  parson  ?  Oh  !  Why,  the  parson  '11  take  a  side 
and  two  hams." 

"  Nonsense ! "  says  the  dame,  with  a  great  voice  ; 
"you're  asleep,  Tourtelot.  Is  the  parson  goin'  to 


88  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

marry,  or  is  n't  he  ?  that 's  what  I  want  to  know  "  ;  and 
she  rethreads  her  needle. 

(She  can  do  it  by  candle-light  at  fifty-five,  that 
woman  !) 

"  Oh,  marry  ! "  replies  the  Deacon,  rousing  himself 
more  thoroughly,  —  "  waal,  I  don't  see  no  signs,  Huldy. 
If  he  doos  mean  to,  he 's  sly  about  it ;  don't  you  think 
so,  Huldy  ?  " 

The  dame,  who  is  intent  upon  her  sewing  again,  — 
she  is  never  without  her  work,  that  woman  !  —  does  not 
deign  a  reply. 

The  Deacon,  after  lifting  the  fire-dog,  blowing  off  the 
ashes,  and  holding  it  to  his  face  to  try  the  heat,  says,  — 

"  I  guess  Almiry  ha'n't  much  of  a  chance." 

"  What 's  the  use  of  your  guessin'  ?  "  says  the  dame  ; 
"  better  mind  your  flip." 

Which  the  Deacon  accordingly  does,  stirring  it  in  a 
mild  manner,  until  the  dame  breaks  out  upon  him  again 
explosively : 

"  Tourtelot,  you  men  of  the  parish  ought  to  talk  to 
the  parson ;  it  a'n't  right  for  things  to  go  on  this  way. 
That  boy  Reuben  is  growin'  up  wild ;  he  wants  a 
woman  in  the  house  to  look  arter  him.  Besides,  a  min 
ister  ought  to  have  a  wife  ;  it  a'n't  decent  to  have  the 
house  empty,  and  only  Esther  there.  Women  want  to 
feel  they  can  drop  in  at  the  parsonage  for  a  chat,  or  to 
take  tea.  But  who  's  to  serve  tea,  I  want  to  know  ? 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  89 

Who  's  to  mind  Reuben  in  meetin'  ?  He  broke  the 
cover  off  the  best  hymn-book  in  the  parson's  pew  last 
Sunday.  Who 's  to  prevent  him  a-breakin'  all  the 
hymn-books  that  belong  to  the  parish  ?  You  men 
ought  to  speak  to  the  parson  ;  and,  Tourtelot,  if  the 
others  won't  do  it,  you  must" 

The  Deacon  was  fairly  awake  now.  He  pulled  at 
his  whiskers  deprecatingly.  Yet  he  clearly  foresaw 
that  the  emergency  was  one  to  be  met ;  the  manner  of 
Dame  Tourtelot  left  no  room  for  doubt ;  and  he  was 
casting  about  for  such  Scriptural  injunctions  as  might 
be  made  available,  when  the  dame  interrupted  his  re 
flections  in  more  amiable  humor,  — 

"  It  is  n't  Almiry,  Samuel,  I  think  of,  but  Mr.  Johns 
and  the  good  of  the  parish.  I  really  don't  know  if 
Almiry  would  fancy  the  parson  ;  the  girl  is  a  good  deal 
taken  up  with  her  pianny  and  books ;  but  there  's  the 
Hapgoods,  opposite  ;  there  's  Joanny  Meacham  " 

"  You  '11  never  make  that  do,  Huldy,"  said  the  Dea 
con,  stirring  his  flip  composedly  ;  "  they  're  nigh  on  as 
old  as  the  parson." 

"  Never  you  mind,  Tourtelot,"  said  the  dame,  sharp 
ly  ;  "  only  you  hint  to  the  parson  that  they  're  good, 
pious  women,  all  of  them,  and  would  make  proper  min 
isters'  wives.  Do  you  think  I  don't  know  what  a  man 
is,  Tourtelot !  Humph  ! "  And  she  threads  her  needle 
again. 


90  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

The  Deacon  was  apt  to  keep  in  mind  his  wife's  ad 
vices,  whatever  he  might  do  with  Scripture  quotations. 
So  when  he  called  at  the  parsonage,  a  few  days  after, 
—  ostensibly  to  learn  how  the  minister  would  like  his 
pork  cut,  —  it  happened  that  little  Reuben  came  bound 
ing  in,  and  that  the  Deacon  gave  him  a  fatherly  pat 
upon  the  shoulder. 

"  Likely  boy  you  've  got  here,  Mr.  Johns,  —  likely 
boy.  But,  Parson,  don't  you  think  he  must  feel  a  kind 
o'  hankerin'  arter  somebody  to  be  motherly  to  him  ? 
I  'most  wonder  that  you  don't  feel  that  way  yourself, 
Mr.  Johns." 

"  God  comforts  the  mourners,"  said  the  clergyman, 
seriously. 

"  No  doubt,  no  doubt,  Parson  ;  but  He  sometimes 
provides  comforts  ag'in  which  we  shet  our  eyes.  You 
won't  think  hard  o'  me,  Parson,  but  I  've  heerd  say 
about  the  village  that  Miss  Meacham  or  one  of  the 
Miss  Hapgoods  would  make  an  excellent  wife  for  the 
minister." 

The  parson  is  suddenly  very  grave. 

"  Don't  repeat  such  idle  gossip,  Deacon.  I  'm  mar 
ried  to  my  work.  The  Gospel  is  my  bride  now." 

"  And  a  very  good  one  it  is,  Parson.  But  don't  you 
think  that  a  godly  woman  for  helpmeet  would  make  the 
work  more  effectooal  ?  Miss  Meacham  is  a  pattern  of 
a  person  in  the  Sunday-school.  The  women  of  the 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  91 

parish  would  rather  like  to  find  the  doors  of  the  par 
sonage  openin'  for  'em  ag'in." 

"  That  is  to  be  thought  of  certainly,"  said  the  minis 
ter,  musingly. 

"  You  won't  think  hard  o'  me,  Mr.  Johns,  for  droppin' 
a  word  about  this  matter  ?  "  says  the  Deacon,  rising  to 
leave.  "  And  while  I  think  on  't,  Parson,  I  see  the  sill 
under  the  no'theast  corner  o'  the  meetin'-house  has  a 
little  settle  to  it.  I  've  jest  been  cuttin'  a  few  sticks  o' 
good  smart  chestnut  timber ;  and  if  the  Committee 
thinks  best,  I  could  haul  down  one  or  two  on  'em  for 
repairs.  It  won't  cost  nigh  as  much  as  pine  lumber, 
and  it 's  every  bit  as  good." 

Even  Dame  Tourtelot  would  have  been  satisfied  with 
the  politic  way  of  the  Deacon,  both  as  regarded  the 
wife  and  the  prospective  bargain.  The  next  evening 
the  good  woman  invited  the  clergyman  —  begging  him 
"  not  to  forget  the  dear  little  boy  "  —  to  tea. 

This  was  by  no  means  the  first  hint  which  the  min 
ister  had  had  of  the  tendency  of  village  gossip.  The 
Tew  partners,  with  whom  he  had  fallen  upon  very  easy 
terms  of  familiarity,  —  both  by  reason  of  frequent  visits 
at  their  little  shop,  and  by  reason  of  their  steady  at 
tendance  upon  his  ministrations,  —  often  dropped  hints 
of  the  smallness  of  the  good  man's  grocery  account, 
and  insidious  hopes  that  it  might  be  doubled  in  size  at 
some  day  not  far  off. 


92  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

Squire  Elderkin,  too,  in  his  bluff,  hearty  way,  had 
occasionally  complimented  the  clergyman  upon  the 
increased  attendance  latterly  of  ladies  of  a  certain  age 
and  had  drawn  his  attention  particularly  to  the  ardent 
zeal  of  a  buxom,  middle-aged  widow,  who  lived  upon 
the  skirts  of  the  town,  and  was  "  the  owner,"  he  said, 
"  of  as  pretty  a  piece  of  property  as  lay  in  the  county." 

"  Have  you  any  knack  at  farming,  Mr.  Johns  ?  "  con 
tinued  he,  playfully. 

"  Farming  ?  why  ?  "  says  the  innocent  parson,  in  a 
maze. 

"  Because  I  am  of  opinion,  Mr.  Johns,  that  the  wid 
ow's  little  property  might  be  rented  by  you,  under  con 
ditions  of  joint  occupancy,  on  very  easy  terms." 

Such  badinage  was  so  warded  off  by  the  ponderous 
gravity  which  the  parson  habitually  wore,  that  men  like 
Elderkin  loved  occasionally  to  launch  a  quiet  joke  at 
him,  for  the  pleasure  of  watching  the  rebound. 

When,  however,  the  wide-spread  gossip  of  the  town 
had  taken  the  shape  (as  in  the  talk  of  Deacon  Tourte- 
lot)  of  an  incentive  to  duty,  the  grave  clergyman  gave 
to  it  his  undivided  and  prayerful  attention.  It  was 
over-true  that  the  boy  Reuben  was  running  wild.  No 
lad  in  Ashfield,  of  his  years,  could  match  him  in  mis 
chief.  There  was  surely  need  of  womanly  direction 
and  remonstrance.  It  was  eminently  proper,  too,  that 
the  parsonage,  so  long  closed,  should  be  opened  freely 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  93 

to  all  his  flock  ;  and  the  truth  was  so  plain,  he  won 
dered  it  could  have  escaped  him  so  long.  Duty  re 
quired  that  his  home  should  have  an  established  mis 
tress  ;  and  a  mistress  he  forthwith  determined  it  should 
have. 

Within  three  weeks  from  the  day  of  the  tea-drinking 
with  the  Tourtelots,  the  minister  suggested  certain 
changes  in  the  long-deserted  chamber  which  should 
bring  it  into  more  habitable  condition.  He  hinted  to 
his  man  Larkin  that  an  additional  fire  might  probably 
be  needed  in  the  house  during  the  latter  part  of  winter ; 
and  before  January  had  gone  out,  he  had  most  agree 
ably  surprised  the  delighted  and  curious  Tew  partners 
with  a  very  large  addition  to  his  usual  orders,  —  em 
bracing  certain  condiments  in  the  way  of  spices,  dried 
fruits,  and  cordials,  which  had  for  a  long  time  been 
foreign  to  the  larder  of  the  parsonage. 

Such  indications,  duly  commented  on,  as  they  were 
most  zealously,  could  not  fail  to  excite  a  great  buzz  of 
talk  and  of  curiosity  throughout  the  town. 

"  I  knew  it,"  says  Mrs.  Tew,  authoritatively,  setting 
back  her  spectacles  from  her  postal  duties  ;  —  "these 
'ere  grave  widowers  are  allers  the  first  to  pop  off,  and 
git  married." 

"  Tourtelot !  "  said  the  dame,  on  a  January  night, 
when  the  evidence  had  come  in  overwhelmingly,  — 
"  Tourtelot !  what  does  it  all  mean  ? " 


94  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

"D'n'  know,"  says  the  Deacon,  stirring  his  flip, — 
"  d'n'  know.  It 's  my  opinion  the  parson  has  his  sly 
humors  about  him." 

"  Do  you  think  it 's  true,  Samuel  ?  " 

"  Waal,  Hulcly,  —  I  du." 

"  Tourtelot !  finish  your  flip,  and  go  to  bed  :  it 's  past 
ten." 

And  the  Deacon  went 


XIV. 

the  latter  end  of  the  winter  there  arrived 
-  at  the  parsonage  the  new  mistress,  —  in  the  per 
son  of  Miss  Eliza  Johns,  the  elder  sister  of  the  incum 
bent,  and  a  spinster  of  the  ripe  age  of  three-and-thirty. 
For  the  last  twelve  years  she  had  maintained  a  lonely, 
but  matronly,  command  of  the  old  homestead  of  the 
late  Major  Johns,  in  the  town  of  Canterbury.  She  was 
intensely  proud  of  the  memory  of  her  father,  and  of 
his  father  before  him,  —  every  inch  a  Johns.  Xo  light 
cause  could  have  provoked  her  to  a  sacrifice  of  the 
name ;  and  of  weightier  causes  she  had  been  spared 
the  trial.  The  marriage  of  her  brother  had  always 
been  more  or  less  a  source  of  mortification  to  her. 
The  Handbys,  though  excellent  plain  people,  were  of 
no  particular  distinction.  Eachel  had  a  pretty  face, 
with  which  Benjamin  had  grown  suddenly  demented. 
That  source  of  mortification  and  of  disturbed  intimacy 
was  now  buried  in  the  grave.  Benjamin  had  won  a 
reputation  for  dignity  and  ability  which  was  immensely 
gratifying  to  her.  She  had  assured  him  of  it  again 
and  again  in  her  occasional  letters.  The  success  of 


96  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

his  Election  Sermon  had  been  an  event  of  the  greatest 
interest  to  her,  which  she  had  expressed  in  an  epistle 
of  three  pages,  with  every  comma  in  its  place,  and  full 
of  gratulations.  Her  commas  were  always  in  place  ; 
so  were  her  stops  of  all  kinds :  her  precision  was 
something  marvelous.  This  precision  had  enabled  her 
to  manage  the  little  property  which  had  been  left  her 
in  such  a  way  as  to  maintain  always  about  her  estab 
lishment  an  air  of  well-ordered  thrift.  She  concealed 
adroitly  all  the  shifts  —  if  there  were  any  —  by  which 
she  avoided  the  reproach  of  seeming  poor. 

In  person  she  was  not  unlike  her  father,  the  Major,  — 
tall,  erect,  with  a  dignified  bearing,  and  so  trim  a  figure, 
and  so  elastic  a  step  even  at  her  years,  as  would  have 
provoked  an  inquisitive  follower  to  catch  sight  of  the 
face.  This  was  by  no  means  attractive.  Her  features 
were  thin,  her  nose  unduly  prominent ;  and  both  eye 
and  mouth,  though  well  formed,  carried  about  them  a 
kind  of  hard  positiveness  that  would  have  challenged 
respect,  perhaps,  but  no  warmer  feeling.  Two  little 
curls  were  flattened  upon  either  temple  ;  and  her  neck 
tie,  dress,  gloves,  hat,  were  always  most  neatly  arranged, 
and  ordered  with  the  same  precision  that  governed  all 
her  action.  In  the  town  of  Canterbury  she  was  an  in 
stitution.  Her  charities  and  all  her  religious  observ 
ances  were  methodical,  and  never  omitted.  Her  whole 
life,  indeed,  was  a  discipline.  Without  any  great  love 


DOCTOR    JOHNS.  97 

for  children,  she  still  had  her  Bible-class ;  and  it  was 
rare  that  the  weather  or  any  other  cause  forbade  attend 
ance  upon  its  duties.  Nor  was  there  one  of  the  little 
ones  who  listened  to  that  clear,  sharp,  metallic  voice  of 
hers  but  stood  in  awe  of  her  ;  not  one  that  could  say  she 
was  unkind ;  not  one  who  had  ever  bestowed  a  childish 
gift  upon  her,  —  such  little  gifts  as  children  love  to 
heap  on  those  who  have  found  the  way  to  their  hearts. 

Sentiment  had  never  been  effusive  in  her ;  and  it  was 
now  limited  to  quick  sparkles,  that  sometimes  flashed 
into  a  page  of  her  reading.  As  regarded  the  serious 
question  of  marriage,  implying  a  home,  position,  the  mar 
ried  dignities,  it  had  rarely  disturbed  her ;  and  now  her 
imaginative  forecast  did  not  grapple  it  with  any  vigor  or 
longing.  If,  indeed,  it  had  been  possible  that  a  man 
of  high  standing,  character,  cultivation,  —  equal,  in 
short,  to  the  Johnses  in  every  way,  —  should  woo  her 
with  pertinacity,  she  might  have  been  disposed  to  yield 
a  dignified  assent,  but  not  unless  he  could  be  made  to 
understand  and  adequately  appreciate  the  immense 
favor  she  was  conferring.  In  short,  the  suitor  who  could 
abide  and  admit  her  exalted  pretensions,  and  submit 
to  them,  would  most  infallibly  be  one  of  a  character 
and  temper  so  far  inferior  to  her  own  that  she  would 
scorn  him  from  the  outset.  This  dilemma,  imposed  by 
the  rigidity  of  her  smaller  dignities,  that  were  never 
mastered  or  overshadowed  either  by  her  sentiment  or 


98  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

her  passion,  not  only  involved  a  life  of  celibacy,  but 
was  a  constant  justification  of  it,  and  made  it  eminently 
easy  to  be  borne.  There  are  not  a  few  maiden  ladies 
who  are  thus  lightered  over  the  shoals  of  a  solitary 
existence  by  the  buoyancy  of  their  own  intemperate 
vanities. 

Miss  Johns  did  not  accept  the  invitation  of  her 
brother  to  undertake  the  charge  of  his  household 
without  due  consideration.  She  by  no  means  left  out 
of  view  the  contingency  of  his  possible  future  mar 
riage  ;  but  she  trusted  largely  to  her  own  influences  in 
making  it  such  a  one,  if  inevitable,  as  should  not  be 
discreditable  to  the  family  name.  And  under  such 
conditions  she  would  retire  with  serene  contentment  to 
her  own  more  private  sphere  of  Canterbury,  —  or,  if 
circumstances  should  demand,  would  accept  the  posi 
tion  of  guest  in  the  house  of  her  brother.  Nor  did 
she  leave  out  of  view  her  influence  in  the  training 
of  the  boy  Reuben.  She  cherished  her  own  hopes  of 
moulding  him  to  her  will,  and  of  making  him  a  pride 
to  the  family. 

There  was  of  course  prodigious  excitement  in  the 
parsonage  upon  her  arrival.  Esther  had  done  her  best 
at  all  household  appliances,  whether  of  kitchen  or 
chamber.  The  minister  received  her  with  his  wonted 
quietude,  and  a  brotherly  kiss  of  salutation.  Reuben 
gazed  wonderingly  at  her,  and  was  thinking  dreamily 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  99 

if  he  should  ever  love  her,  while  he  felt  the  dreary 
rustle  of  her  black  silk  dress  swooping  round  as  she 
stooped  to  embrace  him.  "  I  hope  Master  Reuben  is  a 
good  boy,"  said  she ;  "  your  Aunt  Eliza  loves  all  good 
boys." 

He  had  nothing  to  say ;  but  only  looked  back  into 
that  cold  gray  eye,  as  she  lifted  his  chin  with  her 
gloved  hand. 

"  Benjamin,  there 's  a  strong  look  of  the  Handbys  ; 
but  it 's  your  forehead.  He  's  a  little  man,  I  hope," 
and  she  patted  him  on  the  head. 

Still  Reuben  looked  —  wonderingly  —  at  her  shining 
silk  dress,  at  her  hat,  at  the  little  curls  on  either  temple, 
at  the  guard-chain  which  hung  from  her  neck  with  a 
glittering  watch-key  upon  it,  at  the  bright  buckle  in  her 
belt,  and  most  of  all  at  the  gray  eye  which  seemed  to 
look  on  him  from  far  away.  And  with  the  same  stare 
of  wonderment,  he  followed  her  up  and  down  through 
out  the  house. 

At  night,  Esther,  who  has  a  chamber  near  him, 
creeps  in  to  say  good-night  to  the  lad,  and  asks,  — 

"Do  you  like  her,  Ruby,  boy?  Do  you  like  your 
Aunt  Eliza?" 

"  I  d'n  know,"  says  Reuben.  "  She  says  she  likes 
good  boys  ;  don't  you  like  bad  uns,  Esther  ?  " 

"  But  you  're  not  very  bad,"  says  Esther,  whose  or 
thodoxy  does  not  forbid  kindly  praise. 


100  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

"  Did  n't  mamma  like  bad  uns,  Esther  ?  " 

"  Dear  heart !  "  and  the  good  creature  gives  the  boy 
a  great  hug ;  it  could  not  have  been  warmer,  if  he  had 
been  her  child. 

The  household  speedily  felt  the  presence  of  the  new 
comer.  Her  precision,  her  method,  her  clear,  sharp 
voice,  —  never  raised  in  anger,  never  falling  to  tender 
ness,  —  ruled  the  establishment.  Under  all  the  cheeri- 
ness  of  the  old  management,  there  had  been  a  sad  lack 
of  any  economic  system,  by  reason  of  which  the  minis 
ter  was  constantly  overrunning  his  little  stipend,  and 
making  awkward  appeals  from  time  to  time  to  the  Par 
ish  Committee  for  advances.  A  small  legacy  that  had 
befallen  the  late  Mrs.  Johns,  and  which  had  gone  to  the 
purchase  of  the  parsonage,  had  brought  relief  at  a  very 
perplexing  crisis ;  but  against  all  similar  troubles  Miss 
Johns  set  her  face  most  resolutely.  There  was  a  daily 
examination  of  butchers'  and  grocers'  accounts,  that 
had  been  previously  unknown  to  the  household.  The 
kitchen  was  placed  under  strict  regimen,  into  the 
observance  of  which  the  good  Esther  slipped,  not  so 
much  from  love  of  it,  as  from  total  inability  to  cope 
with  the  magnetic  authority  of  the  new  mistress.  Nor 
was  she  harsh  in  her  manner  of  command. 

"  Esther,  my  good  woman,  it  will  be  best,  I  think,  to 
have  breakfast  a  little  more  promptly, —  at  half-past 
six,  we  will  say,  —  so  that  prayers  may  be  over  and  the 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  101 

room  free  by  eight ;  the  minister,  you  know,  must  have 
his  morning  in  his  study  undisturbed." 

"  Yes,  marm,"  says  Esther ;  and  she  would  as  soon 
have  thought  of  flying  over  the  house-top  in  her  short 
gown  as  of  questioning  the  plan. 

Again,  the  mistress  says,  — "  Larkin,  I  think  it 
would  be  well  to  take  up  those  scattered  bunches  of 
lilies,  and  place  them  upon  either  side  of  the  walk  in 
the  garden,  so  that  the  flowers  may  be  all  together." 

"  Yes,  marm,"  says  Larkin. 

And  much  as  he  had  loved  the  little  woman  now 
sleeping  in  her  grave,  who  had  scattered  flowers  with  an 
errant  fancy,  he  would  have  thought  it  preposterous  to 
object  to  an  order  so  calmly  spoken,  so  evidently  intend 
ed  for  execution.  There  was  something  in  the  tone  of 
Miss  Johns  in  giving  directions  that  drew  off  all  moral 
power  of  objection  as  surely  as  a  good  metallic  conduc 
tor  would  free  an  overcharged  cloud  of  its  electricity. 

The  parishioners  were  not  slow  to  perceive  that  new 
order  prevailed  at  the  quiet  parsonage.  Curiosity,  no 
less  than  the  staid  proprieties  which  governed  the 
action  of  the  chief  inhabitants,  had  brought  them  early 
into  contact  with  the  new  mistress.  She  received  all 
with  dignity  and  with  an  exactitude  of  deportment 
that  charmed  the  precise  ones  and  that  awed  the 
younger  folks.  The  bustling  Dame  Tourtelot  had 


102  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

come  among  the  earliest,  and  her  brief  report  was,  — 
"  Tourtelot,  Miss  Johns  's  as  smart  as  a  steel  trap." 

Nor  was  the  spinster  sister  without  a  degree  of  cul 
tivation  which  commended  her  to  the  more  intellectual 
people  of  Ashfield.  She  was  a  reader  of  "  Rokeby  " 
and  of  Miss  Austen's  novels,  of  Josephus  and  of 
Rollin's  "  Ancient  History."  The  Miss  Hapgoods,  who 
were  the  blue-stockings  of  the  place,  were  charmed  to 
have  such  an  addition  to  the  cultivated  circle  of  the 
parish.  To  make  the  success  of  Miss  Johns  still  more 
decided,  she  brought  with  her  a  certain  knowledge  of 
the  conventionalisms  of  the  city,  by  reason  of  her  oc 
casional  visits  to  her  sister  Mabel,  (now  Mrs.  Brind- 
lock,  of  Greenwich  Street,)  which  to  many  excellent 
women  gave  larger  assurance  of  her  position  and 
dignity  than  all  besides.  Before  the  first  year  of  her 
advent  had  gone  by,  it  was  quite  plain  that  she  was  to 
become  one  of  the  prominent  directors  of  the  female 
world  of  Ashfield. 

Only  in  the  parsonage  itself  did  her  influence  find 
its  most  serious  limitations,  —  and  these  in  connection 
with  the  boy  Reuben. 


XV. 

r  MIIERE  is  a  deep  emotional  nature  in  the  lad, 
-*-  which,  by  the  time  he  has  reached  his  eighth  year, 
—  Miss  Eliza  having  now  been  in  the  position  of  mis 
tress  of  the  household  a  twelvemonth,  —  works  itself 
off  in  explosive  tempests  of  feeling,  with  which  the 
prim  spinster  has  but  faint  sympathy.  No  care  could 
be  more  studious  and  complete  than  that  with  which 
she  looks  after  the  boy's  wardrobe  and  the  ordering  of 
his  little  chamber ;  his  supply  of  mittens,  of  stockings, 
and  of  underclothing  is  always  of  the  most  ample  ; 
nay,  his  caprices  of  the  table  are  not  wholly  overlooked, 
and  she  hopes  to  win  upon  him  by  the  dishes  that  are 
most  toothsome ;  but,  however  grateful  for  the  moment, 
his  boyish  affections  can  never  make  their  way  with 
any  force  or  passionate  flow  through  the  stately  pro 
prieties  of  manner  with  which  the  spinster  aunt  is  al 
ways  hedged  about. 

He  wanders  away  after  school-hours  to  the  home  of 
the  Elderkins,  —  Phil  and  he  being  sworn  friends,  and 
the  good  mother  of  Phil  always  having  ready  for  him 
a  beamin<r  look  of  welcome  and  a  tender  word  or  two 


104  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

that  somehow  always  find  their  way  straight  to  his 
heart.  He  loiters  with  Larkin,  too,  by  the  great  stable- 
yard  of  the  inn,  though  it  is  forbidden  ground.  He 
breaks  in  upon  the  precise  woman's  rule  of  punctuality 
sadly  ;  many  a  cold  dish  he  eats  sulkily,  —  she  sitting 
bolt  upright  in  her  place  at  the  table,  looking  down  at 
him  with  glances  which  are  every  one  a  punishment. 
Other  times  he  is  straying  in  the  orchard  at  the  hour 
of  some  home-duty,  and  the  active  spinster  goes  to 
seek  him,  and  not  threateningly,  but  with  an  assured 
step  and  a  firm  grip  upon  the  hand  of  the  loiterer, 
which  he  knows  not  whether  to  count  a  favor  or  a  pun 
ishment,  (and  she  as  much  at  a  loss,  so  inextricably 
interwoven  are  her  notions  of  duty  and  of  kindness,) 
leads  him  homeward,  plying  him  with  stately  precepts 
upon  the  sin  of  negligence,  and  with  earnest  story  of 
the  dreadful  fate  which  is  sure  to  overtake  all  bad  boys 
who  do  not  obey  and  keep  "  by  the  rules  " ;  and  she 
instances  those  poor  lads  who  were  eaten  by  the  bears, 
of  whom  she  has  read  to  him  the  story  in  the  Old 
Testament. 

"  Who  was  it  they  called  '  bald  -  head,'  Reuben  ? 
Elisha  or  Elijah  ? " 

He,  in  no  mood  for  reply,  is  sulkily  beating  off  the 
daisies  with  his  feet,  as  she  drags  him  on ;  sometimes 
hanging  back,  with  impotent,  yet  concealed  struggle, 
which  she  —  not  deiffninji  to  notice  —  overcomes  with 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  105 

even  sharper  step,  and  plies  him  the  more  closely  with 
the  dire  results  of  badness,  —  has  not  finished  her 
talk,  indeed,  when  they  reach  the  door-step  and 
enter.  There  he,  fuming  now  with  that  long  struggle, 
fuming  the  more  because  he  has  concealed  it,  makes 
one  violent  discharge  with  a  great  frown  on  his  little 
face,  "  You  're  an  ugly  old  thing,  and  I  don't  like  you 
one  bit ! " 

Esther,  good  soul,  within  hearing  of  it,  lifts  her 
hands  in  apparent  horror,  but  inwardly  indulges  in  a 
wicked  chuckle  over  the  boy's  spirit. 

But  the  minister  has  heard  him,  too,  and  gravely 
summons  the  offender  into  his  study. 

"  My  son,  Reuben,  this  is  very  wrong." 

And  the  boy  breaks  into  a  sob  at  this  stage,  which  is 
a  great  relief. 

"  My  boy,  you  ought  to  love  your  aunt." 

"  Why  ought  I  ?  "  says  he. 

"  Why  ?  why  ?  Don't  you  know  she 's  very  good  to 
you,  and  takes  excellent  care  of  you,  and  hears  you 
say  your  catechism  every  Saturday  ?  You  ought  to 
love  her." 

"  But  I  can't  make  myself  love  her,  if  I  don't,"  says 
the  boy. 

"  It  is  your  duty  to  love  her,  Reuben ;  and  we  can 
all  do  our  duty." 

Even  the  staid  clergyman  enjoys  the  boy's  discom- 


106  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

fiture  under  so  orthodox  a  proposition.  Miss  Johns, 
however,  breaks  in  here,  having  overheard  the  latter 
part  of  the  talk  :  — 

"  No,  Benjamin,  I  wish  no  love  that  is  given  from  a 
sense  of  duty.  Reuben  sh'an't  be  forced  into  loving  his 
Aunt  Eliza." 

And  there  is  a  subdued  tone  in  her  speech  which 
touches  the  boy.  But  he  is  not  ready  yet  for  surren 
der  ;  he  watches  gravely  her  retirement,  and  for  an 
hour  shows  a  certain  preoccupation  at  his  play  ;  then 
his  piping  voice  is  heard  at  the  foot  of  the  stairway,  — 

"  Aunt  Eliza  !     Are  you  there  ?  " 

«  Yes,  Master  Reuben !  " 

Master !  It  cools  somewhat  his  generous  intent ; 
but  he  is  in  for  it ;  and  he  climbs  the  stair,  sidles  un 
easily  into  the  chamber  where  she  sits  at  her  work, 
stealing  a  swift,  inquiring  look  into  that  gray  eye  of 
hers,  — 

"  I  say  —  Aunt  Eliza  —  I  'm  sorry  I  said  that  —  you 
know  what." 

And  he  looks  up  with  a  little  of  the  old  yearning, — the 
yearning  he  used  to  feel  when  another  sat  in  that  place. 

"  Ah,  that  is  right,  Master  Reuben  !  I  hope  we  shall 
be  friends,  now." 

Another  disturbed  look  at  her,  —  remembering  the 
time  when  he  would  have  leaped  into  a  mother's  arms, 
after  such  struggle  with  his  self-will,  and  found  glad- 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  107 

ness.  That  is  gone  ;  no  swift  embrace,  no  tender  hand 
toying  with  his  hair,  beguiling  him  from  play.  And 
he  sidles  out  again,  half  shamefaced  at  a  surrender 
that  has  wrought  so  little.  Loitering,  and  playing  with 
the  balusters  as  he  descends,  the  swift,  keen  voice 
comes  after  him,  — 

"  Don't  soil  the  paint,  Reuben  !  " 

"  I  have  n't." 

And  the  swift  command  and  as  swift  retort  put  him 
in  his  old,  wicked  mood  again,  and  he  breaks  out  into 
a  defiant  whistle.  (Over  and  over  the  spinster  has 
told  him  it  was  improper  to  whistle  in-doors.)  Yet, 
with  a  lingering  desire  for  sympathy,  Reuben  makes 
his  way  into  his  father's  study ;  and  the  minister  lays 
clown  his  great  folio,  —  it  is  Poole's  "  Annotations,"  — 
and  says,  — 

"  Well,  Reuben  ! " 

"  I  told  her  I  was  sorry,"  says  the  boy  ;  "  but  I  don't 
believe  she  likes  me  much." 

"  Why,  my  son  ?  " 

"  Because  she  called  me  Master,  and  said  it  was  very 
proper." 

"  But  does  n't  that  show  an  interest  in  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  interest  is." 

« It 's  love." 

"  Mamma  never  called  me  Master,"  said  Reuben. 

The  grave  minister  bites  his  lip,  beckons  his  boy  to 


108  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

him,  —  "  Here,  my  son  !  "  —  passes  his  arm  around 
him,  had  almost  drawn  him  to  his  heart,  — 

"  There,  there,  Reuben  ;  leave  me  now ;  I  have  my 
sermon  to  finish.  I  hope  you  won't  be  disrespectful 
to  your  aunt  again.  Shut  the  door." 

And  the  minister  goes  back  to  his  work,  ironly  hon 
est,  mastering  his  sensibilities,  tearing  great  gaps  in 
his  heart,  even  as  the  anchorites  once  fretted  their 
bodies  with  hair-cloth  and  scourgings. 

In  the  summer  of  1828  Mr.  Johns  was  called  upon 
to  preach  a  special  discourse  at  the  Commencement 
exercises  of  the  college  from  which  he  had  received 
his  degree ;  and  so  sterlingly  orthodox  was  his  sermon, 
at  a  crisis  when  some  sister  colleges  were  bolstering  up 
certain  new  theological  tenets  which  had  a  strong  taint 
of  heresy,  that  the  old  gentlemen  who  held  rank  as 
fellows  of  his  college,  in  a  burst  of  zeal,  bestowed  upon 
the  worthy  man  the  title  of  D.  D.  It  was  not  an 
honor  he  had  coveted ;  indeed,  he  coveted  no  human 
honors  ;  yet  this  was  more  wisely  given  than  most :  his 
dignity,  his  sobriety,  his  rigid,  complete  adherence  to 
all  the  accepted  forms  of  religious  belief  made  him  a 
safe  recipient  of  the  title. 

The  spinster  sister,  with  an  ill-concealed  pride,  was 
most  zealous  in  the  bestowal  of  it ;  and  before  a 
month  had  passed,  she  had  forced  it  into  current  use 
throughout  the  world  of  Ashfield. 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  109 

Did  a  neglectful  neighbor  speak  of  the  good  health 
of  "  Mr.  Johns,"  the  mistress  of  the  parsonage  said,  — 
"  Why,  yes,  the  Doctor  is  working  very  hard,  it  is  true  ; 
but  he  is  quite  well ;  the  Doctor  is  remarkably  well." 

Did  a  younger  church-sister  speak  in  praise  of  some 
late  sermon  of  "  the  minister,"  Miss  Eliza  thanked  her 
in  a  dignified  way,  and  was  sure  "  the  Doctor  "  would 
be  most  happy  to  hear  that  his  efforts  were  appreciated. 

As  for  Larkin  and  Esther,  who  stumbled  dismally 
over  the  new  title,  the  spinster  plied  them  urgently. 

"  Esther,  my  good  woman,  make  the  Doctor's  tea 
very  strong  to-night." 

"  Larkin,  the  Doctor  won't  ride  to-day ;  and  mind, 
you  must  cut  the  wood  for  the  Doctor's  fire  a  little 
shorter." 

Reuben  only  rebelled,  with  the  mischief  of  a  boy :  — 

"What  for  do  you  call  papa  Doctor?  He  don't 
carry  saddle-bags." 

To  the  quiet,  staid  man  himself  it  was  a  wholly  in 
different  matter.  In  the  solitude  of  his  study,  how 
ever,  it  recalled  a  neglected  duty,  and  in  so  far  seemed 
a  blessing.  By  such  paltry  threads  are  the  colors 
woven  into  our  life !  It  recalled  his  friend  Maverick 
and  his  jaunty  prediction  ;  and  upon  that  came  to  him 
a  recollection  of  the  promise  which  he  had  made  to 
Rachel,  that  he  would  write  to  Maverick. 

So  the  minister  wrote,  telling   his   old   friend  what 


110  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

grief  had  stricken  his  house,  — how  his  boy  and  he 
were  left  alone,  —  how  the  church,  by  favor  of  Provi 
dence,  had  grown  under  his  preaching,  —  how  his  sister 
had  come  to  be  mistress  of  the  parsonage,  —  how  he 
had  wrought  the  Master's  work  in  fear  and  trembling  ; 
and  after  this  came  godly  counsel  for  the  exile. 

He  hoped  that  light  had  shone  upon  him,  even  in  the 
"  dark  places "  of  infidel  France,  —  that  he  was  not 
alienated  from  the  faith  of  his  fathers,  —  that  he  did 
not  make  a  mockery,  as  did  those  around  him,  of  the 
holy  institution  of  the  Sabbath. 

"  My  friend,"  he  wrote,  "  God's  "Word  is  true  ;  God's 
laws  are  just ;  He  will  come  some  day  in  a  chariot  of 
fire.  Neither  moneys  nor  high  places  nor  worldly  hon 
ors  nor  pleasures  can  stay  or  avert  the  stroke  of  that 
sword  of  divine  justice  which  will  '  pierce  even  to  the 
dividing  asunder  of  the  joints  and  marrow.'  Let  no 
siren  voices  beguile  you.  Without  the  gift  of  His  grace 
who  died  that  we  might  live,  there  is  no  hope  for  kings, 
none  for  you,  none  for  me.  I  pray  you  consider  this, 
my  friend ;  for  I  speak  as  one  commissioned  of  God." 

Whether  these  words  of  the  minister  were  met,  after 
their  transmission  over  seas,  with  a  smile  of  derision,  — 
with  an  empty  gratitude,  that  said,  "  Good  fellow  !  " 
and  forgot  their  burden,  —  with  a  stitch  of  the  heart, 
that  made  solemn  pause  and  thoughtfulness,  and  short, 
vain  struggle  against  the  habit  of  a  life,  we  will  not 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  Ill 

say;  our  story  may  not  tell,  perhaps.  But  to  the  mind 
of  the  parson  it  was  clear  that  at  some  great  coming 
day  it  icvuld  be  known  of  all  men  where  the  seed  that 
he  had  sown  had  fallen,  —  whether  on  good  ground  or 
in  stony  places. 

The  cross-ocean  mails  were  slow  in  those  days ;  and 
it  was  not  until  nearly  four  months  after  the  transmis 
sion  of  the  Doctor's  letter  —  he  having  almost  forgot 
ten  it  —  that  Reuben  came  one  day  bounding  in  from 
the  snow  in  mid-winter,  his  cheeks  aflame  with  the 
keen,  frosty  air,  his  eyes  dancing  with  boyish  excite 
ment  :  — 

"  A  letter,  papa  !  a  letter !  —  and  Mr.  Troop  "  (it  is 
the  new  postmaster  under  the  Adams  dynasty)  "  says  it 
came  all  the  way  from  Europe.  It 's  got  a  funny  post 
mark." 

The  minister  lays  down  his  book,  —  takes  the  letter, 

—  opens  it,  —  reads,  —  paces   up  and  down  his  study 
thoughtfully,  —  reads  again,  to  the  end. 

"  Reuben,  call  your  Aunt  Eliza." 

There   is   matter   in   the   letter   that   concerns  her, 

—  that  in  its  issues  will  concern  the  boy,  —  that  rnay 
possibly  give  a  new  color  to  the  life  of  the  parsonage, 
and  a  new  direction  to  our  story. 


XVI. 

ItlTISS  ELIZA  being  fairly  seated  in  the  Doctor's 
-*•"-•-  study,  with  great  eagerness  to  hear  what  might 
be  the  subject  of  his  communication,  the  parson,  with 
the  letter  in  his  hand,  asked  if  she  remembered  an 
old  college  friend,  Maverick,  who  had  once  paid  them 
a  vacation  visit  at  Canterbury. 

"  Perfectly,"  said  Miss  Eliza,  whose  memory  was 
both  keen  and  retentive  ;  "  and  I  remember  that  you 
have  said  he  once  passed  a  night  with  you,  during 
the  lifetime  of  poor  Rachel,  here  at  Ashficld.  You 
have  a  letter  from  him  ?  " 

"  I  have,"  said  the  parson  ;  "  and  it  brings  a  pro 
posal  about  which  I  wish  your  opinion."  And  the 
Doctor  cast  his  eye  over  the  letter. 

"He  expresses  deep  sympathy  at  my  loss,  and  al 
ludes  very  pleasantly  to  the  visit  you  speak  of,  all 
which  I  will  not  read ;  after  this  he  says,  '  I  little 
thought,  when  bantering  you  in  your  little  study  upon 
your  family  prospects,  that  I  too  was  destined  to  be 
come  the  father  of  a  child,  within  a  couple  of  years. 
Yet  it  is  even  so ;  and  the  responsibility  weighs  upon 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  113 

me  greatly.  I  love  my  Aclele  with  my  whole  heart ; 
I  am  sure  you  cannot  love  your  boy  more,  though 
perhaps  more  wisely." 

"  And  he  had  never  told  you  of  his  marriage  ? " 
said  the  spinster. 

"  Never ;  it  is  the  only  line  I  have  had  from  him 
since  his  visit  ten  years  ago." 

The  Doctor  goes  on  with  the  reading :  — 

o  o 

"  It  may  be  from  a  recollection  of  your  warnings 
and  of  your  distrust  of  the  French  character,  or  pos 
sibly  it  may  be  from  the  prejudices  of  my  New  Eng 
land  education,  but  I  cannot  entertain  pleasantly  the 
thought  of  her  growing  up  to  womanhood  under  the 
influences  which  are  about  her  here.  What  those 
influences  are  you  will  not  expect  me  to  explain  in 
detail.  I  am  sure  it  will  be  enough  to  win  upon  your 
sympathy  to  say  that  they  are  Popish  and  thoroughly 
French.  I  feel  a  strong  wish,  therefore,  —  much  as 
I  am  attached  to  the  clear  child,  —  to  give  her  the 
advantages  of  a  New  England  education  and  training. 
And  with  this  wish,  my  thought  reverts  naturally  to 
the  calm  quietude  of  your  little  town  and  of  your 
household ;  for  I  cannot  doubt  that  it  is  the  same  un 
der  the  care  of  your  sister  as  in  the  old  time." 

"  I  am  glad  he  thinks  so  well  of  me,"  said  Miss 
Eliza,  but  with  an  irony  in  her  tone  that  she  was  sure 
the  good  parson  would  never  detect. 

VOL.   I.  8 


114  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

The  Doctor  looks  at  her  thoughtfully  a  moment, 
over  the  edge  of  the  letter,  —  as  if  he,  too,  had  his 
quiet  comparisons  to  make,  —  then  goes  on  with  the 
letter :  — 

"  This  wish  may  surprise  you,  since  you  remember 
my  old  battlings  with  what  I  counted  the  rigors  of  a 
New  England  '  bringing-up ' ;  but  in  this  case  I  should 
not  fear  them,  provided  I  could  assure  myself  of 
your  kindly  supervision.  For  my  little  Adele,  besides 
inheriting  a  great  flow  of  spirits  (from  her  father, 
you  will  say)  and  French  blood,  has  been  used  thus 
far  to  a  catholic  latitude  of  talk  and  manner  in  all 
about  her,  which  will  so  far  counterbalance  the  grav 
ities  of  your  region  as  to  leave  her,  I  think,  upon  a 
safe  middle  ground.  At  any  rate,  I  see  enough  to 
persuade  me  to  choose  rather  the  errors  that  may 
grow  upon  her  girlhood  there  than  those  that  would 
grow  upon  it  here. 

"  Frankly,  now,  may  I  ask  you  to  undertake,  with 
your  good  sister,  for  a  few  years,  the  responsibility 
which  I  have  suggested  ?  " 

The  Doctor  looked  over  the  edge  of  the  sheet  to 
ward  Miss  Eliza. 

"  Read  on,  Benjamin,"  said  she. 

"  The  matter  of  expenses,  I  am  happy  to  say,  is 
one  which  need  not  enter  into  your  consideration  of 
the  question.  My  business  successes  have  been  such 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  115 

that  any  estimate  which  you  may  make  of  the  moneys 
required  will  be  at  your  call  at  the  office  of  our  house 
in  Newburyport. 

"  I  have  the  utmost  faith  in  you,  my  dear  Johns ; 
and  I  want  you  to  have  faith  in  the  earnestness  with 
which  I  press  this  proposal  on  your  notice.  You  will 
wonder,  perhaps,  how  the  mother  of  my  little  Adele 
can  be  a  party  to  such  a  plan  ;  but  I  may  assure  you, 
that,  if  your  consent  be  gained,  it  will  meet  with  no 
opposition  in  that  quarter.  This  fact  may  possibly 
confirm  some  of  your  worst  theories  in  regard  to 
French  character;  and  in  this  letter,  at  least,  you 
will  not  expect  me  to  combat  them. 

"  I  have  said  that  she  has  lived  thus  far  under 
Popish  influences ;  but  her  religious  character  is  of 
course  unformed;  indeed,  she  has  as  yet  developed 
in  no  serious  direction  whatever ;  I  think  you  will 
find  a  tabula  rasa  to  write  your  tenets  upon.  But, 
if  she  comes  to  you,  do  not,  I  beg  of  you,  grave 
them  too  harshly ;  she  is  too  bird-like  to  be  treated 
with  severity ;  and  I  know  that  under  all  your  gravity, 
my  dear  Johns,  there  is  a  kindliness  of  heart,  which, 
if  you  only  allowed  it  utterance,  would  win  greatly 
upon  this  little  fondling  of  mine.  And  I  think  that 
her  open,  laughing  face  may  win  upon  you. 

"  Adele  has  been  taught  English,  and  I  have  pur 
posely  held  all  my  prattle  with  her  in  the  same  tongue, 


116  DOCTOR  JOHhS. 

and  her  familiarity  with  it  is  such  that  you  would 
hardly  detect  a  French  accent.  I  am  not  particularly 
anxious  that  she  should  maintain  her  knowledge  of 
French ;  still,  should  a  good  opportunity  occur,  and 
a  competent  teacher  be  available,  it  might  be  well 
for  her  to  do  so.  In  all  such  matters  I  should  rely 
greatly  on  your  judgment. 

"Now,  my  dear  Johns,"  — 

Miss  Eliza  interrupts  by  saying,  "  I  think  your  friend 
is  very  familiar,  Benjamin." 

"  Why  not  ?  why  not,  Eliza  ?  "We  were  boys  to 
gether." 

And  he  continues  with  the  letter  :  — 

"  My  dear  Johns,  I  want  you  to  consider  this  mat 
ter  fairly ;  I  need  not  tell  you  that  it  is  one  that  lies 
very  near  my  heart.  Should  you  determine  to  ac 
cept  the  trust,  there  is  a  ship  which  will  be  due  at 
this  port  some  four  or  five  months  from  now,  whose 
master  I  know  well,  and  with  whom  I  should  feel  safe 
to  trust  my  little  Adele  for  the  voyage,  providing 
at  the  same  time  a  female  attendant  upon  whom  I 
can  rely,  and  who  will  not  leave  the  little  voyager 
until  she  is  fairly  under  your  wing.  In  two  or  three 
years  thereafter,  at  most,  I  hope  to  come  to  receive 
her  from  you  ;  and  then,  when  she  shall  have  made 
a  return  visit  to  Europe,  it  is  quite  possible  that  I 
may  establish  myself  in  my  own  country  again. 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  117 

Should  you  wish  it,  1  could  arrange  for  the  attendant 
to  remain  with  her ;  but  I  confess  that  I  should  pre 
fer  the  contrary.  I  want  to  separate  her  for  the  time, 
so  far  as  I  can,  from  all  the  influences  to  which  she 
has  been  subject  here  ;  and  further  than  this,  I  have 
a  strong  faith  in  that  self-dependence  which  seems 
to  me  to  grow  out  of  your  old-fashioned  New  England 
training." 

"  That  is  all,"  said  the  Doctor,  quietly  folding 
the  letter.  "  What  do  you  think  of  the  proposal, 
Eliza?" 

"  I  like  it,  Benjamin." 

The  spinster  was  a  woman  of  quick  decision.  Had 
it  been  proposed  to  receive  an  ordinary  pupil  in  the 
house  for  any  pecuniary  consideration,  her  pride  would 
have  revolted  on  the  instant.  But  here  was  a  child 
of  an  old  friend  of  the  Doctor,  a  little  Christian  waif, 
as  it  were,  floating  toward  them  from  that  unbelieving 
world  of  France. 

"  Surely  it  will  be  a  worthy  and  an  honorable  task 
for  Benjamin"  (so  thought  Miss  Eliza)  "to  redeem 
this  little  creature  from  its  graceless  fortune ;  possibly, 
too,  the  companionship  may  soften  that  wild  boy, 
Reuben.  This  French  girl,  Adele,  is  rich,  well-born ; 
what  if,  from  being  inmates  of  the  same  house,  the 
two  should  come  by  and  by  to  be  joined  by  some 
tenderer  tie  ?  " 


118  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

The  possibility,  even,  of  such  a  dawn  of  sentiment 
under  the  spinster's  watchful  tutelage  was  a  delight 
ful  subject  of  reflection  to  her.  It  is  remarkable 
how  even  the  cunningest  and  the  coolest  of  practical- 
minded  women  delight  in  watching  the  growth  of 
sentiment  in  others,  —  and  all  the  more  strongly,  if 
they  can  foster  it  by  their  artifices  and  provoke  it  into 
demonstration. 

Miss  Johns,  too,  without  being  imaginative,  pre 
figured  in  her  mind  the  image  of  the  little  French 
stranger,  with  foreign  air  and  dress,  tripping  beside 
her  up  the  meeting-house  aisle,  looking  into  her  face 
confidingly  for  guidance,  attracting  the  attention  of 
the  simple  towns-people  in  such  sort  that  a  distinction 
would  belong  to  her  protegee  which  would  be  pleas 
antly  reflected  upon  herself.  A  love  of  distinction 
was  the  spinster's  prevailing  sin,  —  a  distinction  grow 
ing  out  of  the  working  of  good  deeds,  if  it  might  be, 
but  at  any  rate  some  worthy  and  notable  distinction. 
The  Doctorate  of  her  good  brother,  his  occasional  dis 
courses  which  had  been  subject  of  a  public  mention 
that  she  never  forgot,  were  objects  of  a  more  than 
sisterly  fondness.  If  her  sins  were  ever  to  meet  with 
a  punishment  in  the  flesh,  they  would  know  no  sharper 
one  than  in  a  humiliation  of  her  pride. 

"  I  think,"  said  she,  "  that  you  can  hardly  decline 
the  proposal  of  Mr.  Maverick,  Benjamin." 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  119 

"  And  you  will  take  the  home  care  of  her  ?  "  asked 
the  Doctor. 

"  Certainly.  She  would  at  first,  I  suppose,  attend 
school  with  Reuben  and  the  young  Elderkins  ?  " 

"  Probably,"  returned  the  Doctor ;  "  but  the  more 
special  religious  training  which  I  fear  the  poor  girl 
needs  must  be  given  at  home,  Eliza." 

"  Of  course,  Benjamin." 

It  was  further  agreed  between  the  two  that  a  FVench 
attendant  would  make  a  very  undesirable  addition  to 
the  household,  as  well  as  sadly  compromise  their  ef 
forts  to  build  up  the  little  stranger  in  full  knowledge 
of  the  faith. 

The  Doctor  was  earnest  in  his  convictions  of  the 
duty  that  lay  before  him,  and  his  sister's  consent  to 
share  the  charge  left  him  free  to  act.  He  felt  all 
the  best  impulses  of  his  nature  challenged  by  the 
proposal.  Here,  at  least,  was  one  chance  to  snatch 
a  brand  from  the  burning,  —  to  lead  this  poor  little 
misguided  wayfarer  into  those  paths  which  are  "  paths 
of  pleasantness."  No  image  of  French  grace  or  of 
French  modes  was  prefigured  to  the  mind  of  the  par 
son  ;  his  imagination  had  different  range.  He  saw 
a  young  innocent  (so  far  as  any  child  in  his  view 
could  be  innocent)  who  prattled  in  the  terrible  lan 
guage  of  Rousseau  and  Voltaire,  who  by  the  provi 
dence  of  God  had  been  born  in  a  realm  where  all 


120  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

iniquities  flourished,  and  to  whom,  by  the  further  and 
richer  providence  of  God,  a  means  of  escape  was  now 
offered.  He  would  no  more  have  thought  of  declin 
ing  the  proposed  service,  even  though  the  poor  girl 
were  dressed  in  homespun  and  clattered  in  sabots, 
than  he  would  have  closed  his  ear  to  the  cry  of  a 
drowning  child. 

Within  that  very  week  the  Doctor  wrote  his  reply 
to  Maverick.  He  assured  him  that  he  would  most 
gladly  undertake  the  trust  he  had  proposed,  — "  hop 
ing,  by  God's  grace,  to  lead  the  little  one  away  from 
the  delusions  of  sense  and  the  abominations  of  An 
tichrist,  to  the  fold  of  the  faithful." 

"  I  could  wish,"  he  continued,  "  that  you  had  given 
me  more  definite  information  in  regard  to  the  char 
acter  of  her  early  religious  instruction,  and  told  me 
how  far  the  child  may  still  remain  under  the  mother's 
influence  in  this  respect ;  for,  next  to  special  inter 
position  of  Divine  Grace,  I  know  no  influence  so 
strong  in  determining  religious  tendencies  as  the  early 
instruction  or  example  of  a  mother. 

"  My  sister  has  promised  to  give  home  care  to  the 
little  stranger,  and  will,  I  am  sure,  welcome  her  with 
zeal.  It  will  be  our  purpose  to  place  your  daughter 
at  the  day-school  of  a  worthy  person,  Miss  Betsey 
Onthank,  who  has  had  large  experience,  and  under 
whose  tuition  my  boy  Reuben  has  been  for  some  time 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  121 

established.  My  sister  and  myself  are  both  of  opin 
ion  that  the  presence  of  any  French  attendant  upon 
the  child  would  be  undesirable. 

"  I  hope  that  God  may  have  mercy  upon  the  French 
people,  —  and  that  those  who  dwell  temporarily  among 
them  may  be  watched  over  and  be  graciously  snatched 
from  the  great  destruction  that  awaits  the  ungodly." 


XVII. 

1%  TEANTIME  Reuben  grew  into  a  knowledge  of 
-^  all  the  town  mischief,  and  into  the  practice 
of  such  as  came  within  the  scope  of  his  years.  The 
proposed  introduction  of  the  young  stranger  from 
abroad  to  the  advantages  of  the  parsonage  home  did 
not  weigh  upon  his  thought  greatly.  The  prospect 
of  such  a  change  did  not  soften  him,  whatever  might 
come  of  the  event.  In  his  private  talk  with  Esther, 
he  had  said,  "  I  hope  that  French  girl  '11  be  a  clever 

un  ;  if  she  a'n't,  I  '11 " and  he  doubled  up  a  little 

fist,  and  shook  it,  so  that  Esther  laughed  outright. 

Not  that  the  boy  had  any  cruelty  in  him,  but  he 
was  just  now  learning  from  his  older  companions  of 
the  village,  who  were  more  steeped  in  iniquity,  that 
defiant  manner  by  which  the  Devil  in  all  of  us  makes 
his  first  pose  preparatory  to  the  onslaught  that  is  to 
come. 

"  Nay,  Ruby,  boy,"  said  Esther,  when  she  had  re 
covered  from  her  laughter,  "  you  would  n't  hurt  the 
little  un,  would  ye  ?  Don't  ye  want  a  little  playfellow, 
Ruby  ?  " 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  123 

"I  don't  play  with  girls,  I  don't,"  said  Reuben. 
*  But,  I  say,  Esther,  what  '11  papa  do,  if  she  dances  ?  " 

"  What  makes  the  boy  think  she  '11  dance  ?  "  said 
Esther. 

"  Because  the  Geography  says  the  French  people 
dance  ;  and  Phil  Elderkin  showed  me  a  picture  with 
girls  dancing  under  a  tree,  and,  says  he,  '  That 's  the 
sort  that 's  comin'  to  y'r  house.'  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  Esther,  "  but  I  guess 
your  Aunt  Eliza  'd  cure  the  dancin'." 

"  She  would  n't  cure  me,  if  I  wanted  to,"  said  Reu 
ben,  who  thought  it  needful  to  speak  in  terms  of  bra 
vado  about  the  spinster,  with  whom  he  kept  up  a  series 
of  skirmishing  fights  from  week  to  week.  The  truth  is, 
the  keen  eye  of  the  good  lady  ferreted  out  a  great  many 
of  his  pet  plans  of  mischief,  and  nipped  them  before 
they  had  time  to  ripen.  Over  and  over,  too,  she  warned 
him  against  the  evil  associates  whom  he  would  find 
about  the  village  tavern,  where  he  strayed  from  time  to 
time  to  be  witness  to  some  dog-fight,  or  to  receive  a 
commendatory  glance  of  recognition  from  one  Nat 
Boody,  the  tavern-keeper's  son,  who  had  run  away  two 
years  before  and  made  a  voyage  down  the  river  in  a 
sloop  laden  with  apples  and  onions  to  "  York."  He 
was  a  head  taller  than  Reuben,  and  the  latter  admired 
him  intensely  :  we  never  cease  admiring  those  "  a  head 
taller "  than  ourselves.  Reuben  absolutely  pined  in 


124  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

longing  wonderment  at  the  way  in  which  Nat  Boody 
could  crack  a  coach-whip,  and  with  a  couple  of  hickory 
sticks  could  "  call  the  roll "  upon  a  pine  table  equal  to  a 
drum-major.  Wonderful  were  the  stories  this  boy  could 
tell,  to  special  cronies,  of  his  adventures  in  the  city : 
they  beat  the  Geography  "  all  hollow."  Such  an  air,  too, 
as  this  Boody  had,  leaning  against  the  pump-handle 
by  his  father's  door,  and  making  cuts  at  an  imaginary 
span  of  horses !  —  such  a  pair  of  twilled  trousers, 
cut  like  a  man's !  —  such  a  jacket,  with  lapels  to  the 
pockets,  which  he  said  "  the  sailors  wore  on  the  sloops, 
and  called  'em  monkey-jackets  " !  —  such  a  way  as 
he  had  of  putting  a  quid  in  his  mouth  !  for  Nat  Boody 
chewed.  It  is  not  strange  that  Reuben,  feeling  a  little 
of  ugly  constraint  under  the  keen  eye  of  the  spinster 
Eliza,  should  admire  greatly  the  free-and-easy  manner 
of  the  tavern-boy,  who  had  such  familiarity  with  the 
world  and  such  large  range  of  action.  The  most  of  us 
never  get  over  a  wonderment  at  the  composure  and 
complacency  which  spring  from  a  wide  knowledge  of 
the  world ;  and  the  man  who  can  crack  his  whip  well, 
though  only  at  an  imaginary  pair  of  horses,  is  sure  to 
have  a  throng  of  admirers. 

By  this  politic  lad,  Nat  Boody,  the  innocent  Reuben 
was  decoyed  into  many  a  little  bargain  which  told  more 
for  the  shrewdness  of  the  tavern  than  for  that  of  the 
parsonage.  Thus,  he  bartered  one  day  a  new  pocket- 


DOCTOR   JOHNS.  125 

knife,  the  gift  of  his  Aunt  Mabel,  of  Greenwich  Street, 
for  a  knit  Scotch  cap,  half-worn,  which  the  tavern  trav 
eler  assured  him  could  not  be  matched  for  any  money. 
And  the  parson's  boy,  going  back  with  this  trophy  on 
his  head,  looking  very  consciously  at  those  who  give  an 
admiring  stare,  is  pounced  upon  at  the  very  door-step 
by  the  indefatigable  spinster. 

"  What  now,  Reuben  ?  Where  in  the  world  did  you 
get  that  cap  ?  " 

"  Bought  it,"  —  in  a  grand  way. 

"But  it 's  worn,"  says  the  aunt.  "Ouf!  whose  was 
it?" 

"  Bought  it  of  Nat  Boody,"  says  Reuben  ;  "  and  he 
says  there  is  n't  another  can  be  had." 

u  Bah  ! "  says  the  spinster,  making  a  dash  at  the  cap, 
which  she  seizes,  and,  straightway  rushing  in-doors, 
souses  in  a  kettle  of  boiling  water. 

After  which  comes  off  a  new  skirmish,  followed  by 
the  partial  defeat  of  Reuben,  who  receives  such  a  comb 
ing  down  (with  sundry  killed  and  wounded)  as  he  re 
members  for  a  month  thereafter. 

The  truth  is,  that  it  was  not  altogether  from  admira 
tion  of  the  accomplished  Nat  Boody  that  Reuben  was 
prone  to  linger  about  the  tavern  neighborhood.  The 
spinster  had  so  strongly  and  constantly  impressed  it 
upon  him  that  it  was  a  low  and  vulgar  and  wicked  place, 
that  the  boy,  growing  vastly  inquisitive  in  these  years, 


126  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

was  curious  to  find  out  what  shape  the  wickedness 
took;  and  as  he  walked  by,  sometimes  at  dusk,  when 
thoroughly  infused  with  the  lust  teachings  of  Miss  Eliza, 
it  seemed  to  him  that  he  might  possibly  catch  a  glimpse 
of  the  hoofs  of  some  devil  (as  he  had  seen  devils  pict 
ured  in  an  illustrated  Milton)  capering  about  the  door 
way,  —  and  if  he  had  seen  them,  truth  compels  us  to 
say  that  he  would  have  felt  a  strong  inclination  to  fol 
low  them  up,  at  a  safe  distance,  in  order  to  see  what 
kind  of  creatures  might  be  wearing  them.  But  he  was 
far  more  apt  to  see  the  lounging  figure  of  the  shoe 
maker  from  down  the  street,  or  of  Mr.  Postmaster 
Troop,  coming  thither  to  have  an  evening's  chat  about 
Vice-President  Calhoun,  or  William  Wirt  and  the  Anti- 
'Masons.  Or  possibly,  it  might  be,  he  would  see  the  light 
heels  of  Suke  Boody,  the  pretty  daughter  of  the  tavern- 
keeper,  who  had  been  pronounced  by  Phil  Elderkin. 
who  knew,  (being  a  year  his  senior,)  the  handsomest 
girl  in  the  town.  This  might  well  be ;  for  Suke  was 
just  turned  of  fifteen,  with  pink  arms  and  pink  cheeks 
and  blue  eyes  and  a  great  flock  of  brown  hair :  not 
very  startling  in  her  beauty  on  ordinary  days,  when  she 
appeared  in  a  pinned-up  quilted  petticoat,  and  her  curls 
in  papers,  sweeping  the  tavern-steps ;  but  of  a  Saturday 
afternoon,  in  red  and  white  calico,  with  the  curls  all 
streaming,  —  no  wonder  Phil  Elderkin,  who  was  tall 
of  his  age,  thought  her  handsome.  So  it  happened  that 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  127 

the  inquisitive  Reuben,  not  finding  any  cloven  feet  in 
his  furtive  observations,  but  encountering  always  either 
the  rosy  Suke,  or  "  Scamp,"  (which  was  Nat's  pet  fight 
ing-dog,)  or  the  shoemaker,  or  the  round-faced  Mr. 
Boody  himself,  could  justify  and  explain  his  aunt's 
charge  of  the  tavern  wickedness  only  by  distributing  it 
over  them  all.  And  when,  one  Sunday,  Miss  Suke  ap 
peared  at  meeting  (where  she  rarely  went)  in  hat  all 
aflame  with  ribbons,  Reuben,  sorely  puzzled  at  the 
sight,  says  to  his  Aunt  Eliza, — 

"  Why  did  n't  the  sexton  put  her  out  ?  " 

"  Put  her  out ! "  says  the  spinster,  horrified,  — 
"  what  do  you  mean,  Reuben  ?  " 

"  Is  n't  she  wicked  ?  "  says  he  ;  "  she  came  from  the 
tavern,  and  she  lives  at  the  tavern." 

"  But  don't  you  know  that  preaching  is  for  the 
wicked,  and  that  the  good  had  much  better  stay  away 
than  the  bad  ?  " 

"  Had  they  ?  "  said  Reuben,  thoughtfully,  pondering 
if  there  did  not  lie  somewhere  in  this  averment  the 
basis  for  some  new  moral  adjustment  of  his  own  con 
duct. 

There  are  a  vast  many  prim  preachers,  both  male 
and  female,  in  all  times,  who  imagine  that  certain  styles 
of  wickedness  or  vulgarity  are  to  be  approached  Avith 
propriety  only  across  a  church  ;  —  as  if  better  preach 
ing  did  not  lie,  nine  times  out  of  ten,  in  the  touch  of  a 
hand  or  a  whisper  in  the  ear ! 


128  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

Pondering,  as  Reuben  did,  upon  the  repeated  warn 
ings  of  the  spinster  against  any  familiarity  with  the 
tavern  or  tavern  people,  he  came  in  time  to  reckon  the 
old  creaking  sign-board  of  Mr.  Boody,  and  the  pump  in 
the  inn-yard,  as  the  pivotal  points  of  all  the  town 
wickedness,  just  as  the  meeting-house  was  the  center  of 
all  the  town  goodness ;  and  since  the  great  world  was 
very  wicked,  as  he  knew  from  overmuch  iteration  at 
home,  and  since  communication  with  that  wicked  world 
was  kept  up  mostly  by  the  stage-coach  that  stopped 
every  noon  at  the  tavern-door,  it  seemed  to  him  that 
relays  of  wickedness  must  flow  into  the  tavern  and 
town  daily  upon  that  old  swaying  stage-coach,  just  as 
relays  of  goodness  might  come  to  the  meeting-house  on 
some  old  lumbering  chaise  of  a  neighboring  parson, 
who  once  a  month,  perhaps,  would  "  exchange  "  with 
the  Doctor.  And  it  confirmed  in  Reuben's  mind  a  good 
deal  that  was  taught  him  about  natural  depravity,  when 
he  found  himself  looking  out  with  very  much  more 
eagerness  for  the  rumbling  coach,  that  kept  up  a  daily 
wicked  activity  about  the  tavern,  than  he  did  for  Par 
son  Hobson,  who  snuffled  in  his  reading,  and  who 
drove  an  old,  thin-tailed  sorrel  mare,  with  lopped  ears 
and  lank  jaws,  that  made  passes  at  himself  and  Phil,  if 
they  teased  her,  —  as  they  always  did. 

So,  too,  he  came  to  regard,  in  virtue  of  misplaced 
home  instruction,  the  monkey-jacket  of  Nat  Boody,  and 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  129 

his  fighting-dog  "  Scamp,"  and  the  pink  arms  and  pink 
cheeks  and  brown  ringlets  of  Suke  Boody,  as  so  many 
types  of  human  wickedness ;  and,  by  parity  of  reason 
ing,  he  came  to  look  upon  the  two  flat  curls  on  either 
temple  of  his  Aunt  Eliza,  and  her  pragmatic  way,  and 
upon  the  yellow  ribbons  within  the  scoop-hat  of  Al- 
mira  Tourtelot,  who  sang  treble  and  never  went  to  the 
tavern,  as  the  types  of  goodness.  What  wonder,  if  he 
swayed  more  arid  more  toward  the  broad  and  easy 
path  that  lay  around  the  tavern-pump,  ("  Scamp  "  lying 
there  biting  at  the  flies,)  and  toward  the  bar-room, 
with  its  flaming  pictures  of  some  past  menagerie-show, 
and  big  tumblers  with  lemons  atop,  rather  than  to  the 
strait  and  narrow  path  in  which  his  Aunt  Eliza  and 
Miss  Almira  would  guide  him  with  sharp  voices,  thin 
faces,  and  decoy  of  dyspeptic  doughnuts  ? 

Phil  and  he  sauntering  by  one  day,  Phil  says, — 

"  Darst  you  go  in,  Reub  ?  " 

Phil  was  under  no  law  of  prohibition.  And  Reuben, 
glancing  around  the  Common,  says,  — 

«  Yes,  /  '11  go." 

"  Then,"  says  Phil,  "  we  '11  call  for  a  glass  of  lemon 
ade.  Fellows  'most  always  order  something  when  they 
go  in." 

So  Phil,  swelling  with  his  ten  years,  and  tall  of  his 
age,  walks  to  the  bar  and  calls  for  two  tumblers  of  lem 
onade,  which  Old  Boody  stirs  with  an  appetizing  rattle 

VOL.   I.  9 


130  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

of  the  toddy-stick,  —  dropping,  meantime,  a  query  or 
two  about  the  Squire,  and  a  look  askance  at  the  par 
son's  boy,  who  is  trying  very  hard  to  wear  an  air  as  if 
he,  too,  were  ten,  and  knew  the  ropes. 

"  It 's  good,  a'n't  it  ? "  says  Phil,  putting  down  his 
money,  of  which  he  always  had  a  good  stock. 

"  Prime  !  "  says  Reuben,  with  a  smack  of  the  lips. 

And  then  Suke  comes  in,  hunting  over  the  room  for 
last  week's  "  Courant " ;  and  the  boys,  with  furtive 
glances  at  those  pink  cheeks  and  brown  ringlets,  go 
down  the  steps. 

"  A'n't  she  handsome  ?  "  says  Phil. 

Reuben  is  on  the  growth.  And  when  he  eats  dinner 
that  day,  with  the  grave  Doctor  carving  the  rib-roast 
and  the  prim  aunt  ladling  out  the  sauces,  he  is  elated 
with  the  vague,  but  not  unpleasant  consciousness,  that 
he  is  beginning  to  be  familiar  with  the  world. 


XVIII. 

"T  T  was  some  four  or  five  months  after  the  dispatch 
-"-  of  the  Doctor's  letter  to  Maverick  before  the  reply 
came.  His  friend  expressed  the  utmost  gratitude  for 
the  Doctor's  prompt  and  hearty  acceptance  of  his  pro 
posal.  With  his  little  Adele  frolicking  by  him,  and 
fastening  more  tenderly  upon  his  heart  every  year,  he 
was  sometimes  half  disposed  to  regret  the  scheme  ;  but, 
believing  it  to  be  for  her  good,  and  confident  of  the  in 
tegrity  of  those  to  whom  he  intrusted  her,  he  reconciled 
himself  to  the  long  separation. 

It  docs  not  come  within  the  limits  of  this  simple  New 
England  narrative  to  enter  upon  any  extended  review 
of  the  family  relations  or  the  life  of  Maverick  abroad. 
Whatever  details  may  appear  incidentally,  as  the  story 
progresses,  the  reader  will  please  to  regard  as  the  shreds 
and  raveled  edges  of  another  and  distinct  life,  which 
cannot  be  fairly  interwoven  with  the  homespun  one  of 
the  parsonage,  nor  yet  be  wholly  brushed  clear  of  our 
story. 

"  I  want,"  said  Maverick  in  his  letter,  "  that  Adele, 
while  having  a  thorough  womanly  education,  should 


132  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

grow  up  with  simple  tastes.  I  think  I  see  a  little  tend 
ency  in  her  to  a  good  many  idle  coquetries  of  dress, 
(which  you  will  set  down,  I  know,  to  her  French  blood,) 
which  I  trust  your  good  sister  will  see  the  prudence  of 
correcting.  My  fortune  is  now  such  that  I  may  reason 
ably  hope  to  put  luxuries  within  her  reach,  if  they  be 
desirable  ;  but  of  this  I  should  prefer  that  she  remain 
ignorant.  I  want  to  see  established  in  her  what  you 
would  call  those  moral  and  religious  bases  of  character 
that  will  sustain  her  under  any  possible  reverses  or  dis 
appointments.  You  will  smile,  perhaps,  at  my  talking 
in  this  strain  ;  but  if  I  have  been  afloat  in  these  matters, 
at  least  you  will  do  me  the  credit  that  may  belong  to 
hoping  better  things  for  my  little  Adele.  It 's  not 
much,  I  know ;  but  I  do  sincerely  desire  that  she  may 
find  some  rally  ing-point  of  courage  and  of  faith  within 
herself  against  any  possible  misfortune.  Is  it  too  much 
to  hope,  that,  under  your  guidance,  and  under  the  quiet 
religious  atmosphere  of  your  little  town,  she  may  find 
such,  and  that  she  may  possess  herself  of  the  consola 
tions  of  the  faith  you  teach,  without  sacrificing  alto 
gether  her  natural  French  vivacity  ? 

"  And  now,  my  dear  Johns,  I  come  to  refer  to  a  cer 
tain  allusion  in  your  letter  with  some  embarrassment. 
You  speak  of  the  weight  of  a  mother's  religious  influ 
ence,  and  ask  what  it  may  have  been.  Since  extreme 
childhood,  Adele  has  been  almost  entirely  under  the 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  133 

care  of  her  godmother,  a  quiet  old  lady,  who,  though  a 
devotee  of  the  Popish  Church,  you  must  allow  me  to 
say,  is  a  downright  good  Christian  woman.  I  am  quite 
sure  that  she  has  not  pressed  upon  the  conscience  of 
little  Adele  any  bigotries  of  the  Church.  My  wish  in 
this  matter  I  am  confident  that  she  has  religiously  re 
garded  ;  and  while  giving  the  example  of  her  own  faith 
by  constant  and  daily  devotions,  I  think,  as  I  said  in  my 
previous  letter,  that  you  will  find  the  heart  of  my  little 
girl  as  open  as  the  sky.  Why  it  is  that  the  mother's 
relations  with  the  clu'ld  have  been  so  broken  you  will 
spare  me  the  pain  of  explaining. 

"  Would  to  God,  I  think  at  times,  that  I  had  married 
years  ago  one  nurtured  in  our  old-fashioned  faith  of 
New  England,  —  some  gentle,  pure,  loving  soul !  Shall 
I  confess  it,  Johns  ?  —  the  little  glimpse  of  your  lost 
Rachel  gave  me  an  idea  of  the  tenderness  and  depth 
of  devotion  and  charming  womanliness  of  many  of 
those  whom  I  had  counted  stiff  and  utterly  repulsive, 
which  I  never  had  before. 

"  Pardon  me.  my  friend,  for  an  allusion  which  may 
provoke  your  grief,  and  which  may  seem  utterly  out  of 
place  in  the  talk  of  one  who  is  just  now  confiding  to 
you  his  daughter. 

"  Johns,  I  have  this  faith  in  you,  from  our  college- 
days  :  I  know  that  on  the  score  of  the  things  touched 
upon  in  the  last  paragraphs  of  my  letter  you  will  not 


134  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

press  me  with  inquiries.  It  is  enough  for  you  to  know 
that  my  life  has  not  been  all  '  plain-sailing.'  For  the 
present,  let  us  say  nothing  of  the  griefs. 

"As  little  Adele  comes  to  me,  and  sits  upon  my 
knee,  as  I  write,  I  almost  lose  courage. 

" '  Adele,'  I  say,  '  will  you  leave  your  father,  and  go 
far  away  over  seas,  to  stay  perhaps  for  years  ?  ' 

" '  You  talk  nonsense,  papa,'  she  says,  and  leaps 
into  my  arms. 

"  My  heart  cleaves  strangely  to  her  :  I  do  not  know 
wholly  why.  And  yet  she  must  go  :  it  is  best. 

"  The  vessel  of  which  I  spoke  will  sail  in  three  weeks 
from  the  date  of  my  letter  for  the  port  of  New  York. 
I  have  made  ample  provision  for  her  comfort  on  the 
passage ;  and  as  the  date  of  the  ship's  arrival  in  New 
York  is  uncertain,  I  must  beg  you  to  arrange  with  some 
friend  there,  if  possible,  to  protect  the  little  stranger, 
until  you  are  ready  to  receive  her.  I  inclose  my  draft 
for  three  hundred  dollars,  which  I  trust  may  be  suffi 
cient  for  a  year's  maintenance,  seeing  that  she  goes 
well  provided  with  clothing :  if  otherwise,  you  will 
please  inform  me." 

Dr.  Johns  was  not  a  man  to  puzzle  himself  with  idle 
conjectures  in  regard  to  the  private  affairs  of  his  friend. 
With  all  kind  feeling  for  him,  —  and  Maverick's  con 
fidence  in  the  Doctor  had  insensibly  given  large  growth 
to  it,  —  the  parson  dismissed  the  whole  affair  with  this 
logical  reflection :  — 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  135 

My  poor  friend  has  been  decoyed  into  marrying  a 
Frenchwoman.  Frenchwomen  (like  Frenchmen)  are 
all  children  of  Satan.  He  is  now  reaping  the  bitter 
results. 

"  As  for  the  poor  child,"  thought  the  Doctor,  and  his 
heart  glowed  at  the  thought,  "  I  will  plant  her  little 
feet  upon  safe  places.  With  God's  help,  she  shall 
come  into  the  fold  of  the  elect." 

He  arranges  with  Mrs.  Brindlock  to  receive  the  child 
temporarily  upon  her  arrival.  Miss  Eliza  puts  even 
more  than  her  usual  vigor  and  system  into  her  arrange 
ments  for  the  reception  of  the  new-comer.  Nothing 
could  be  neater  than  the  little  chamber,  provided  with 
its  white  curtains,  its  spotless  linen,  its  dark  old  mahog 
any  furniture,  its  Testament  and  Catechism  upon  the 
toilet-table  ;  one  or  two  vases  of  old  china  had  been 
brought  up  and  placed  upon  brackets  out  of  reach  of 
the  little  hands  that  might  have  been  tempted  by  their 
beauty,  and  a  coquettish  porcelain  image  of  a  flower- 
girl  had  been  added  to  the  other  simple  adornments 
which  the  ambitious  spinster  had  lavished  upon  the 
chamber.  Her  pride  as  housekeeper  was  piqued.  The 
young  stranger  must  be  duly  impressed  with  the  advan 
tages  of  her  position  at  the  start. 

"  There,"  said  she  to  Esther,  as  she  gave  a  finishing 
touch  to  the  disposal  of  the  blue  and  white  hangings 
about  the  high-post  bedstead,  "  I  wonder  if  that  will  be 
to  the  taste  of  the  little  French  lady ! " 


136  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

"  I  should  think  it  might,  marm ;  it 's  the  beautiful- 
lest  room  I  ever  see,  marm." 

Reuben,  boy-like,  passes  in  and  out  with  an  air  of 
affected  indifference,  as  if  the  arrangements  for  the 
new  arrival  had  no  interest  for  him ;  and  he  whistles 
more  defiantly  than  ever. 


XIX. 

TN  early  September  of  1829,  when  the  orchard  behind 
-*-  the  parsonage  was  glowing  with  its  burden  of  fruit, 
when  the  white  and  crimson  hollyhocks  were  lifting 
their  slanted  pagodas  of  bloom  all  down  the  garden, 
and  the  buckwheat  was  whitening  with  its  blossoms 
broad  patches  of  the  hill-sides  east  and  west  of  Ash- 
field,  news  came  to  the  Doctor  that  his  expected  guest 
had  arrived  safely  in  New  York,  and  was  waiting  his 
presence  there  at  the  elegant  home  of  Mrs.  Brindlock. 
And  Sister  Mabel  writes  to  the  Doctor,  in  the  letter 
which  conveys  intelligence  of  the  arrival,  — "  She  's 
a  charming  little  witch ;  and  if  you  don't  like  to  take 
her  with  you,  she  may  stay  here."  Mrs.  Brindlock  had 
no  children. 

A  visit  to  New  York  was  an  event  for  the  parson. 
The  spinster,  eager  for  his  good  appearance  at  the 
home  of  her  stylish  sister,  insisted  upon  a  toilet  that 
made  the  poor  man  more  awkward  than  ever.  Yet  he 
did  not  think  of  rebelling.  He  rejoiced,  indeed,  that 
he  did  not  dwell  where  such  hardships  would  be  daily 
demanded;  but  remembering  that  he  was  bound  to  a 


138  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

city  of  strangers,  he  recalled  the  Scriptural  injunc 
tion,  "  Render  unto  Caesar  the  things  which  be  Cae 
sar's." 

The  Brindlocks,  well-meaning  and  showy  people,  re 
ceived  the  parson  with  an  effervescence  of  kindness 
that  disturbed  him  almost  as  much  as  the  stiff  garni 
ture  in  which  he  had  been  invested  by  the  solicitude  of 
Miss  Eliza ;  and  when,  in  addition  to  his  double  em 
barrassment,  a  little  saucy-eyed,  brown-faced  girl,  full 
of  mirthful  exuberance,  with  her  dark  hair  banded  in  a 
way  that  was  utterly  strange  to  him,  and  with  coquet 
tish  bows  of  ribbon  at  her  throat,  at  either  armlet  of 
her  jaunty  frock,  and  all  down  either  side  of  her  silk 
pinafore,  came  toward  him  with  a  smiling  air,  as  if  she 
were  confident  of  his  caresses,  the  awkwardness  of  the 
poor  Doctor  was  complete. 

But,  catching  sight  of  a  certain  frank  outlook  in  the 
little  face  which  reminded  him  of  his  friend  Maverick, 
he  felt  his  heart  stirred  within  him,  and  in  his  grave 
way  dropped  a  kiss  upon  her  forehead,  while  he  took 
both  her  hands  in  his. 

"  This,  then,  is  little  Adaly  ?  " 

"  Ha !  ha  !  "  laughed  Adele,  merrily,  and,  turning 
round  to  her  new-found  friends,  says,  — "  My  new 
papa  calls  me  Adaly ! " 

The  straightforward  parson  was,  indeed,  as  inacces 
sible  to  French  words  as  to  French  principles.  Adele 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  139 

had  somehow  a  smack  in  it  of  the  Gallic  Pandemonium : 
Adaly,  to  his  ear,  was  a  far  honester  sound. 

And  the  child  seemed  to  fancy  it,  —  whether  for  its 
novelty,  or  the  kindliness  that  beamed  on  her  from  the 
gravest  face  she  had  ever  seen,  it  would  be  hard  to  say. 

"  Call  me  Adaly,  and  I  will  call  you  New  Papa,"  said 
she. 

And  though  the  parson  was  not  a  bargaining  man, 
every  impulse  of  his  heart  went  to  confirm  this  ar 
rangement.  It  was  flattering  to  his  self-love,  if  not  to 
his  principles,  to  have  apparent  sanction  to  his  preju 
dices  against  French  forms  of  speech ;  and  the  "  New 
Papa  "  on  the  lips  of  this  young  girl  touched  him  to 
the  quick.  Wifeless  men  are  more  easily  accessible  to 
demonstrations  of  even  apparent  affection  on  the  part 
of  young  girls  than  those  whose  sympathies  are  hedged 
about  by  matrimonial  relations. 

From  all  this  it  chanced  that  the  best  possible  under 
standing  was  speedily  established  between  the  Doctor 
and  his  little  ward  from  beyond  the  seas.  For  an  hour 
after  bis  arrival,  the  little  creature  hung  upon  his  chair, 
asking  questions  about  her  new  home,  about  the  schools, 
about  her  playmates,  patting  the  great  hand  of  the 
Doctor  with  her  little  fingers,  and  reminding  him  sadly 
of  days  utterly  gone. 

Mrs.  Brindlock,  with  her  woman's  curiosity,  seizes  an 
occasion,  before  they  leave,  to  say  privately  to  the  Doc 
tor,  — 


140  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

"  Benjamin,  the  child  must  have  a  strange  mother  to 
allow  this  long  separation,  and  the  little  creature  so  lov 
ing  as  she  is." 

"  It  would  be  strange  enough  for  any  but  a  French 
woman,"  said  he. 

"  But  Adele  is  full  of  talk  about  her  father  and  her 
godmother ;  yet  she  can  tell  me  scarce  anything  of  her 
mother.  There  's  a  mystery  about  it,  Benjamin." 

"  There  's  a  mystery  in  all  our  lives,  Mabel,  and  will 
be  until  the  last  day  shall  come." 

The  parson  said  this  with  extreme  gravity,  and  then 
added,  — 

"  He  has  written  me  regarding  it,  —  a  very  unfortu 
nate  marriage,  I  fear.  Only  this  much  he  has  been  dis 
posed  to  communicate  ;  and  for  myself,  I  am  only  con 
cerned  to  redeem  his  little  girl  from  gross  worldly 
attachments  to  the  truths  which  take  hold  upon  heaven. 

The  next  day  the  Doctor  set  off  homeward  upon  the 
magnificent  new  steamboat  Victory,  which,  with  two 
wonderful  smoke-pipes,  was  then  plying  through  the 
Sound  and  up  the  Connecticut  River.  It  was  an  ob 
ject  of  almost  as  much  interest  to  the  parson  as  to  his 
little  companion.  A  sober  costume  had  now  replaced 
the  coquettish  one  with  its  furbelows,  which  Adele  had 
worn  in  the  city  ;  but  there  was  a  bright  lining  to  her 
little  hat  that  made  her  brown  face  more  piquant  than 
ever.  And  as  she  inclined  her  head  jauntily  to  this 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  141 

side  or  that,  in  order  to  a  better  listening  to  the  old 
gentleman's  somewhat  tedious  explanations,  or  with  a 
saucy  smile  cut  him  short  in  the  midst  of  them,  the 
parson  felt  his  heart  warming  more  and  more  toward 
this  poor  child  of  heathen  France.  Nay,  he  felt  almost 
tempted  to  lay  his  lips  to  the  little  white  ears  that 
peeped  forth  from  the  masses  of  dark  hair  and  seemed 
fairly  to  quiver  with  the  eagerness  of  their  listening. 

With  daylight  of  next  morning  came  sight  of  the 
rambling  old  towns  that  lay  at  the  river's  mouth,  — 
being  little  more  than  patches  of  gray  and  white, 
strewed  over  an  almost  treeless  country,  with  some 
central  spire  rising  above  them.  Then  came  great 
stretches  of  open  pasture,  scattered  over  with  huge 
gray  rocks,  amid  which  little  flocks  of  sheep  were  ram 
bling;  or  some  herd  of  young  cattle,  startled  by  the 
splashing  of  the  paddles,  and  the  great  plumes  of 
smoke,  tossed  their  tails  in  the  air,  and  galloped  away 
in  a  fright,  —  at  which  Adele  clapped  her  hands,  and 
broke  into  a  laugh  that  was  as  cheery  as  the  new  dawn. 
Next  came  low,  flat  meadows  of  sedge,  over  which  the 
tide  oozed  slowly,  and  where  flocks  of  wild  ducks, 
scared  from  their  feeding-ground,  rose  by  scores,  and 
went  flapping  off  seaward  in  long,  black  lines.  And 
from  between  the  hills  on  either  side  came  glimpses  of 
swamp  woodland,  in  the  midst  of  which  some  maple, 
earlier  than  its  green  fellows,  had  taken  a  tinge  of 


142  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

orange,  and  flamed  in  the  eyes  of  the  little  traveler 
with  a  gorgeousness  she  had  never  seen  in  the  woods 
of  Provence.  Then  came  towns  nestling  under  bluffs 
of  red  quarry-stones,  towns  upon  wooded  plains,  —  all 
with  a  white  newness  about  them  ;  and  a  brig,  with  horses 
on  its  deck,  piled  over  with  bales  of  hay,  comes  drifting 
lazily  down  with  the  tide,  to  catch  an  offing  for  the 
West  Indies ;  and  queer-shaped  flat-boats,  propelled  by 
broad-bladed  oars,  surge  slowly  athwart  the  stream, 
ferrying  over  some  traveler,  or  some  fish-peddler 
bound  to  the  "  P'int "  for  "  sea-food." 

Toward  noon  the  travelers  land  at  a  shambling  dock 
that  juts  into  the  river,  from  which  point  they  are  to 
make  their  way,  in  such  country  vehicle  as  the  little 
village  will  supply,  across  to  Ashfield.  And  when  they 
are  fairly  seated  within,  the  parson,  judging  that  ac 
quaintance  has  ripened  sufficiently  to  be  put  to  serious 
uses,  says,  with  more  than  usual  gravity,  — 

I  trust,  Adaly,  that  you  are  grateful  to  God  for  hav 
ing  protected  you  from  all  the  dangers  of  the  deep." 

"  Do  you  think  there  was  much  danger,  New  Papa  ?  " 

"  There  's  always  danger,"  said  the  parson,  gravely. 
"  The  Victory  might  have  been  blown  in  pieces  last 
night,  and  we  all  been  killed,  Adaly." 

"  Oh,  terrible  !  "  says  Aclele.  "  And  did  such  a  thing 
ever  really  happen  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  child." 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  143 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it,  New  Papa,  please  ; "  and  she 
put  her  little  hand  in  his. 

"  Not  now,  Adaly,  —  not  now.  I  want  to  know  if 
you  have  been  taught  about  God,  in  your  old  home." 

"  Oh,  the  good  God  !  To  be  sure  I  have,  over  and 
over  and  over ; "  and  she  made  a  little  piquant  gesture, 
as  if  the  teaching  had  been  sometimes  wearisome. 

This  gayety  of  speech  on  such  a  theme  was  painful  to 
the  Doctor. 

"  And  you  have  been  taught  to  pray,  Adaly  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  Listen  now.  Shall  I  tell  you  one  of  my 
prayers,  New  Papa  ?  Voyons,  how  is  it "  — 

"  Never  mind,  —  never  mind,  Adaly ;  not  here,  not 
here.  We  are  taught  to  enter  into  our  closets  when 
we  pray." 

"  Closets  ?  " 

"Yes,  my  child, —  to  be  by  ourselves,  and  to  be 
solemn." 

"  I  don't  like  solemn  people  much,"  said  Adele,  in  a 
quiet  tone. 

"  But  do  you  love  God,  my  child  ?  " 

"  Love  Him  ?  To  be  sure  I  do  ;  "  and  after  a  little 
pause,  —  "  All  good  children  love  Him  ;  and  I  'm  good, 
you  know,  New  Papa,  don't  you  ?  "  —  and  she  turned 
her  eyes  up  toward  him  with  a  half-coaxing,  half-mis 
chievous  look  that  came  near  to  drive  away  all  his  so 
lemnity. 


144  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

"  Ah,  Adaly  !  Adaly  !  we  are  all  wicked ! "  said  he. 

Adele  stared  at  him  in  amazement. 

"  You,  too  !  Yet  papa  told  me  you  were  so  good ! 
Ah,  you  are  telling  me  now  a  little  —  what  you  call  — • 
lie  !  a'n't  you,  New  Papa  ?  " 

And  she  looked  at  him  with  such  a  frank,  arch 
smile,  —  so  like  the  memory  he  cherished  of  the  col 
lege-boy,  Maverick,  —  that  he  could  argue  the  matter 
no  further,  but  only  patted  her  little  hand,  as  it  lay 
upon  the  cushion  of  the  carriage,  as  much  as  to  say,  — 
"  Poor  thing  !  poor  thing  ! " 

Upon  this,  he  fell  away  into  a  train  of  grave  reflec 
tion  on  the  method  which  it  would  be  best  to  pursue  in 
bringing  this  little  benighted  wanderer  into  the  fold  of 
the  faithful. 

And  he  was  still  musing  thus,  when  suddenly  the 
spire  of  Ashfield  broke  upon  the  view. 

"  There  it  is,  Adaly !  There  is  to  be  your  new 
home  ! " 

"  Where  ?  where  ?  "  says  Adele,  eagerly. 

And  straightway  she  is  all  aglow  with  excitement. 
Her  swift  questions  patter  on  the  ears  of  the  old  gen 
tleman  thick  as  rain-drops.  She  looks  at  the  houses, 
the  hills,  the  trees,  the  face  of  every  passer-by,  — won 
dering  how  she  shall  like  them  all ;  fashioning  to  her- 

o  o 

self  some  image  of  the  boy  Reuben  and  of  the  Aunt 
Eliza  who  are  to  meet  her ;  yet,  through  all  the  torrent 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  145 

of  her  vexed  fancies,  carrying  a  great  glow  of  hope,  and 
entering,  with  all  her  fresh,  girlish  enthusiasms  un 
checked,  upon  that  new  phase  of  life,  so  widely  differ 
ent  from  any  thing  she  has  yet  experienced,  under  the 
grave  atmosphere  of  a  New  England  parsonage. 

VOL.   I.  10 


XX. 

"]% /PISS  JOHNS  meets  the  new-comer  with  as  large 
~U-*-  a  share  of  kindness  as  she  can  force  into  her 
manner ;  but  her  welcome  lacks,  somehow,  the  sympa 
thetic  glow  to  which  Adele  has  been  used ;  it  has  not 
even  the  spontaneity  and  heartiness  which  had  belonged 
to  the  greeting  of  that  worldly  woman,  Mrs.  Brindlock. 
And  as  the  wondering  little  stranger  passes  up  the 
path,  and  into  the  door  of  the  parsonage,  with  her  hand 
in  that  of  the  spinster,  she  cannot  help  contrasting  the 
one  cold  kiss  of  the  tall  lady  in  black  with  the  shower 
of  warm  ones  which  her  old  godmother  had  bestowed 
at  parting.  Yet  in  the  eye  of  the  Doctor  sister  Eliza 
had  hardly  ever  worn  a  more  beaming  look,  and  he  was 
duly  grateful  for  the  strong  interest  which  she  evidently 
showed  in  the  child  of  his  poor  friend.  She  had 
equipped  herself  indeed  in  her  best  silk  and  with  her 
most  elaborate  toilet,  and  had  exhausted  all  her  strat 
egy,  —  whether  in  respect  of  dress,  of  decorations  for 
the  chamber,  or  of  the  profuse  supper  which  was  in 
course  of  preparation,  —  to  make  a  profound  and  favor 
able  impression  upon  the  heart  of  the  stranger. 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  147 

The  spinster  was  not  a  little  mortified  at  her  evident 
want  of  success,  most  notably  in  respect  to  the  elabo 
rate  arrangements  of  the  chamber  of  the  young  guest, 
who  seemed  to  regard  the  dainty  hangings  of  the  little 
bed,  and  the  scattered  ornaments,  as  matters  of  course  ; 
but  making  her  way  to  the  window  which  commanded 
a  view  of  both  garden  and  orchard,  Adele  clapped  her 
hands  with  glee  at  sight  of  the  flaming  hollyhocks  and 
the  trees  laden  with  golden  pippins.  It  was,  indeed,  a 
pretty  scene  :  silvery  traces  of  the  brook  sparkled  in 
the  green  meadow  below  the  orchard,  and  the  hills  be- 

O  * 

yond  were  checkered  by  the  fields  of  buckwheat  in 
broad  patches  of  white  bloom,  and  these  again  were 
skirted  by  masses  of  luxuriant  wood  that  crowned  all 
the  heights.  To  the  eye  of  Adele,  used  only  to  the 
bare  hill-sides  and  scanty  olive-orchards  of  Marseilles, 
the  view  was  marvelously  fair. 

"  Tiens !  there  are  chickens  and  doves,"  said  she, 
still  gazing  eagerly  out ;  "  oh,  I  am  sure  I  shall  love 
this  new  home  !  " 

And  thus  saying,  she  tripped  back  from  the  window 
to  where  Miss  Eliza  was  admiringly  intent  upon  the 
unpacking  and  arranging  of  the  little  wardrobe  of  her 
guest.  Adele,  in  the  flush  of  her  joyful  expectations 
from  the  scene  that  had  burst  upon  her  out  of  doors, 
now  prattled  more  freely  with  the  spinster.  —  tossing 
out  the  folds  of  her  dresses,  as  they  successively  came 


148  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

to  light,  with  her  dainty  fingers,  and  giving  some  quick, 
girlish  judgment  upon  each. 

"  This  godmother  gave  me,  dear,  good  soul !  —  and 
she  sewed  this  bow  upon  it ;  is  n't  it  coquette  ?  And 
there's  the  white  muslin,  —  oh,  how  crushed!  —  that 
was  for  my  church-dress,  first  communion,  you  know ; 
but  papa  said, '  Better  wait,'  —  so  I  never  wore  it." 

Thus  woman  and  child  grew  into  easy  acquaintance 
over  the  great  trunk  of  Adele  :  the  latter  plunging  her 
little  hands  among  the  silken  folds  of  dress  after  dress 
with  the  careless  air  of  one  whose  every  wish  had  been 
petted ;  and  the  spinster  forecasting  the  pride  she 
would  herself  take  in  accompanying  this  little  sprite,  in 
these  French  robes,  to  the  house  of  her  good  friends, 
the  Hapgoods,  or  in  exciting  the  wonderment  of  those 
most  excellent  people,  the  Tourtelots. 

Meantime  Reuben,  with  a  resolute  show  of  boyish 
indifference,  has  been  straying  off  with  Phil  Elderkin, 
although  he  has  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  carriage  at  the 
door.  Later  he  makes  his  way  into  the  study,  where 
the  Doctor,  after  giving  him  kindly  reproof  for  not 
being  at  home  to  welcome  them,  urges  upon  him  the 
duty  of  kindness  to  the  young  stranger  who  has  come 
to  make  her  home  with  them,  and  trusts  that  Provi 
dence  may  overrule  her  presence  there  to  the  improve 
ment  and  blessing  of  both.  It  is,  in  fact,  a  little  lecture 
which  the  good,  but  prosy  Doctor  pronounces  to  the 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  149 

boy ;  from  which  he  slipping  away,  so  soon  as  a  good 
gap  occurs  in  the  discourse,  strolls  with  a  jaunty  affec 
tation  of  carelessness  into  the  parlor.  His  Aunt  Eliza 
is  there  now,  seated  at  the  table,  and  Adele  standing  by 
the  hearth,  on  which  a  fire  has  just  been  kindled.  She 
gives  a  quick,  eager  look  at  him,  under  which  his  as 
sumed  carelessness  vanishes  in  an  instant. 

"  This  is  Adele,  our  little  French  guest,  Reuben." 

The  lad  throws  a  quick,  searching  glance  upon 
her,  but  is  abashed  by  the  look  of  half-confidence  and 
half-merriment  that  he  sees  twinkling  in  her  eye. 
The  boy's  awkwardness  seems  to  infect  her,  too, 
for  a  moment. 

"  I  should  think,  Reuben,  you  would  welcome  Adele 
to  the  parsonage,"  said  the  spinster. 

And  Reuben,  glancing  again  from  under  his  brow, 
sidles  along  the  table,  with  far  less  of  ease  than  he 
had  worn  when  he  came  whistling  through  the  hall, 
—  sidles  nearer  and  nearer,  till  she,  with  a  coy  ap 
proach  that  seems  to  be  full  of  doubt,  meets  him 
with  a  little  furtive  hand-shade.  Then  he,  retiring  a 
step,  leans  with  one  elbow  on  the  friendly  table,  eying 
her  curiously,  and  more  boldly  when  he  discovers 
that  her  look  is  downcast  and  that  she  seems  to 
be  warming  her  feet  at  the  blaze. 

Miss  Johns  has  watched  narrowly  this  approach 
of  her  two  proteges,  with  an  interest  quite  uncom- 


150  DOCTOR   JOHNS. 

mon  to  her ;  and  now,  with  a  policy  that  would  have 
honored  a  more  adroit  tactician,  she  slips  quietly  from 
the  room. 

Reuben  feels  freer  at  this,  knowing  that  the  gray  eye 
is  not  upon  the  watch ;  Adele  too,  perhaps ;  at  any 
rate,  she  lifts  her  face  with  a  look  that  invites  Reuben 
to  speech. 

"You  came  in   a  ship,  did  n't   you?" 

"  Oh,  yes,   a   big,   big   ship ! " 

"  I  should  like  to  sail  in  a  ship,"  said  Reuben  ; 
"did  you  like  it?" 

"Not  very  much,"  said  Adele,  "the  deck  was  so 
slippery,  and  the  waves  were  so  high,  oh,  so  high !  " 
—  and  the  little  maid  makes  an  explanatory  gesture 
with  her  two  hands,  the  like  of  which  for  grace  and 
expressiveness  Reuben  had  certainly  never  seen  in 
any  girl  of  Ashfield.  His  eyes  twinkled  at  it. 

"  Were  you   afraid  ? "  said   he. 

"Oh,   not  much." 

"  Because  you  know,"  said  Reuben,  consolingly,  "  if 
the  ship  had  sunk,  you  could  have  come  on  shore  in 
the  small  boats."  He  saw  a  merry  laugh  of  wonder 
ment  threatening  in  her  face,  and  continued  author 
itatively,  "Nat  Boody  has  been  in  a  sloop,  and  he 
says  they  always  carry  small  boats  to  pick  up  people 
when  the  big  ships  go  down." 

Adele   laughed   outright.      "  But    how  would    they 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  151 

carry  the  bread,  and  the  stove,  and  the  water,  and 
the  anchor,  and  all  the  things?  Besides,  the  great 
waves  would  knock  a  small  boat  in  pieces." 

Reuben  felt  a  humiliating  sense  of  being  no  match 
for  the  little  stranger  on  sea  topics,  so  he  changed  the 
theme. 

"  Are  you  going  to  Miss  Onthank's  ?  " 

"  That 's  a  funny  name,"  says  Adele  ;  "  that  's  the 
school,  is  n't  it  ?  Yes,  I  suppose  I  '11  go  there  :  you  go, 
don't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  says  Reuben,  "  but  I  don't  think  I  '11  go  very 
long." 

"Why  not?"   says  Adele. 

"  I  'm  getting  too  big  to  go  to  a  girls'  school,"  said 
Reuben. 

"  Oh ! "  and  there  was  a  little  playful  malice  in  the 
girl's  observation  that  piqued  the  boy. 

"  Do  the  scholars  like  her  ?  "  continued  Adele. 

"  Pretty  well,"  said  Reuben  ;  "  but  she  hung  up  a 
little  girl  about  as  big  as  you,  once,  upon  a  nail  in  a 
corner  of  the  school-room." 

"  Quelle  bete  !  "  exclaimed   Adele. 

"  That  's  French,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  it  means  she  's  a  bad  woman  to  do  such 
things." 

In  this  way  they  prattled  on,  and  grew  into  a  cer 
tain  familiarity ;  the  boy  entertaining  an  immense 


152  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

respect  for  her  French,  and  for  her  knowledge  of 
the  sea  and  ships ;  but  stubbornly  determined  to 
maintain  the  superiority  which  he  thought  justly  to 
belong  to  his  superior  age  and  sex. 

That  evening,  after  the  little  people  were  asleep, 
the  spinster  and  the  Doctor  conferred  together  in 
regard  to  Adele.  It  was  agreed  between  them  that 
she  should  enter  at  once  upon  her  school  duties, 
and  that  particular  inquiry  concerning  her  religious 
beliefs,  or  particular  instruction  on  that  score,  —  fur 
ther  than  what  belonged  to  the  judicious  system  of 
Miss  Onthank,  —  should  be  deferred  for  the  present. 
At  the  same  time  the  Doctor  enjoined  upon  his 
sister  the  propriety  of  commencing  upon  the  next 
Saturday  evening  the  usual  instructions  in  the  Shorter 
Catechism,  and  of  insisting  upon  punctual  attendance 
vipon  the  family  devotions.  The  good  Doctor  hoped 
by  these  appointed  means  gradually  to  ripen  the  re 
ligious  sensibilities  of  the  little  stranger,  so  that  she 
might  be  prepared  for  that  stern  denunciation  of 
those  follies  of  the  Romish  Church  amid  which  she 
had  been  educated,  and  that  it  would  be  his  duty  at 
no  distant  day  to  declare  to  her. 

The  spinster  had  been  so  captivated  by  a  certain 
air  of  modish  elegance  in  Adele  as  to  lead  her 
almost  to  forget  the  weightier  obligations  of  her 
Christian  duty  toward  her.  She  conceived  that  she 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  153 

would  find  in  her  a  means  of  recovering  some  in 
fluence  over  Reuben,  —  never  doubting  that  the  boy 
would  be  attracted  by  her  frolicsome  humor,  and 
would  be  eager  for  her  companionship.  It  was  pos 
sible,  moreover,  that  there  might  be  some  appeal  to 
the  boy's  jealousies,  when  he  found  the  favors  which 
he  had  spurned  were  lavished  upon  Adele.  It  was 
therefore  in  the  best  of  temper  and  with  the  airiest 
of  hopes  (though  not  altogether  spiritual  ones)  that 
Miss  Eliza  conducted  the  discussion  with  the  Doctor. 
In  two  things  only  they  had  differed,  and  in  this 
each  had  gained  and  each  lost  a  point.  The  Doctor 
utterly  refused  to  conform  his  pronunciation  to  the 
rigors  which  Miss  Eliza  prescribed ;  for  him  Adele 
should  be  always  and  only  Aclaly.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  parson's  exactions  in  regard  to  sundry 
modifications  of  the  little  girl's  dress  miscarried ;  the 
spinster  insisted  upon  all  the  furbelows  as  they  had 
come  from  the  hands  of  the  French  modiste ;  and 
in  this  she  left  the  field  with  flying  colors. 

The  next  day  Doctor  Johns  wrote  to  his  friend 
Maverick,  announcing  the  safe  arrival  of  his  child  at 
Ashfield,  and  spoke  in  terms  which  were  warm  for 
him,  of  the  interest  which  both  his  sister  and  him 
self  felt  in  her  welfare.  "  He  was  pained,"  he  said, 
u  to  perceive  that  she  spoke  almost  with  gayety  of 
serious  things,  and  feared  greatly  that  her  keen 


154  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

relish  for  the  beauties  and  delights  of  this  sinful 
world,  and  her  exuberant  enjoyment  of  mere  tem 
poral  blessings,  would  make  it  hard  to  wean  her  from 
them  and  to  center  her  desires  upon  the  eternal 
world.  But,  my  friend,  all  things  are  possible  with 
God ;  and  I  shall  diligently  pray  that  she  may  return 
to  you,  in  a  few  years,  sobered  in  mind,  and  a 
self-denying  missionary  of  the  true  faith." 


XXI. 

""VTO  such  event  could  take  place  in  Ashfield  as 
-^•^  the  arrival  of  this  young  stranger  at  the  par 
sonage,  without  exciting  a  world  of  talk  up  and  down 
the  street.  There  were  stories  that  she  came  of  a 
vile  Popish  family,  and  there  were  those  who  gravely 
believed  that  the  poor  little  creature  had  made  only 
a  hair-breadth  escape  from  the  thongs  of  the  In 
quisition.  There  were  few  even  of  those  who  knew 
that  she  was  the  daughter  of  a  wealthy  gentleman, 
now  domiciled  in  France,  and  an  old  friend  of  the 
Doctor's,  who  did  not  look  upon  her  with  a  tender 
interest,  as  one  miraculously  snatched  by  the  hands 
of  the  good  Doctor  from  the  snares  of  perdition. 
The  gay  trappings  of  silks  and  ribbons  in  which  she 
paced  up  the  aisle  of  the  meeting-house  upon  her 
first  Sunday,  under  the  patronizing  eye  of  the  stern 
spinster,  were  looked  upon  by  the  more  elderly 
worshipers  —  most  of  all  by  the  mothers  of  young 
daughters  —  as  the  badges  of  the  Woman  of  Babylon, 
and  as  fit  belongings  to  those  accustomed  to  dwell 
in  the  tents  of  wickedness.  Even  Dame  Tourtelot, 


156  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

in  whose  pew  the  face  of  Miss  Almira  waxes  yellow 
between  two  great  saffron  bows,  commiserates  the 
poor  heathen  child  who  has  been  decked  like  a  lamb 
for  the  sacrifice.  "  I  wonder  Miss  Eliza  don't  pull 
off  them  ribbons  from  the  little  minx,"  said  she,  as 
she  marched  home  in  the  "  intermission,"  locked 
commandingly  to  the  arm  of  the  Deacon. 

"  Waal,  I  s'pose  they  're  paid  for,"  returns  the  Deacon. 

«  What 's  that  to  do  with  it,  Tourtelot  ?  " 

"  Waal,  Huldy,  we  do  pootty  much  all  we  can  for 
Almiry  in  that  line :  this  'ere  Maverick,  I  guess,  doos 
the  same.  What 's  the  odds,  arter  all  ?  " 

"  Odds  enough,  Tourtelot,"  as  the  poor  man  found 
before  bedtime  :  he  had  no  flip. 

The  Elderkins,  however,  were  more  considerate. 
Very  early  after  her  arrival,  Adele  had  found  her  way 
to  their  homestead,  under  the  guidance  of  Miss  Eliza, 
and  by  her  frank,  demonstrative  manner  had  estab 
lished  herself  at  once  in  the  affections  of  the  whole 
family.  The  Squire,  indeed,  had  rallied  the  parson  not 
a  little,  in  his  boisterous,  hearty  fashion,  upon  his  in 
troduction  of  such  a  dangerous  young  Jesuit  into  so 
orthodox  a  parish. 

At  all  which,  so  seriously  uttered  as  to  take  the  Doc 
tor  fairly  aback,  good  Mrs.  Elderkin  shook  her  finger 
warningly  at  the  head  of  the  Squire,  and  said,  "  Now, 
for  shame,  Giles  !  " 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  157 

Good  Mrs.  Elderkin  was,  indeed,  the  pattern  woman 
of  the  parish  in  all  charitable  deeds ;  not  only  outside, 
(where  so  many  charitable  natures  find  their  limits,) 
but  in-doors.  With  gentle  speech  and  gentle  manner, 
she  gave,  may  be,  her  occasional  closet-counsel  to  the 
Squire  ;  but  most  times  her  efforts  to  win  him  to  a 
more  serious  habit  of  thought  are  covered  under  the 
shape  of  some  charming  plea  for  a  kindness  to  herself 
or  the  "  dear  girls,"  which  she  knows  that  he  will  not 
have  the  hardihood  to  resist.  And  even  this  method 
she  does  not  push  too  far,  —  making  it  a  cardinal  point 
in  her  womanly  strategy  that  his  home  shall  be  always 
grateful  to  the  Squire,  —  that  he  shall  never  be  driven 
from  it  by  any  thought  or  suspicion  of  her  exactions. 
Thus,  if  Grace  —  who  is  her  oldest  daughter,  and  al 
most  woman  grown  —  has  some  evening  appointment 
at  Bible  class,  or  other  such  gathering,  and,  the  boys 
being  out,  appeals  timidly  to  the  father,  good  Mrs. 
Elderkin  says,  — 

"  I  am  afraid  your  papa  is  too  tired,  Grace  ;  do  let 
him  enjoy  himself." 

At  which  the  Squire,  shaking  off  his  lethargy,  says, — 

"  Get  your  things,  child  !  " 

And  as  he  goes  out  with  Grace,  he  is  rewarded  by 
one  of  those  tender  smiles  upon  the  lip  of  the  mother 
which  captivated  him  twenty  years  before,  and  which 
still  make  his  fireside  the  most  cherished  spot  in  the 
town. 


158  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

No  wonder  that  the  little  half-orphaned  creature, 
Adele,  with  her  explosive  warmth  of  heart,  is  kindly 
received  among  the  Elderkins.  Phil  was  some  three 
years  her  senior,  a  ruddy-faced,  open-hearted  fellow, 
who  had  been  well-nurtured,  like  his  two  elder  brothers, 
but  in  whom  a  certain  waywardness  just  now  appearing 
was  attributed  very  much,  by  the  closely  observing 
mother,  to  the  influence  of  that  interesting,  but  mis 
chievous  boy,  Reuben.  Phil  was  the  superior  in  age, 
indeed,  and  in  muscle,  (as  we  may  find  proof,)  but  in 
nerve-power  the  more  delicate-featured  boy  of  the  par 
son  outranked  him. 

Rose  Elderkin  was  a  year  younger  than  the  French 
stranger,  and  a  marvelously  fair  type  of  New  England 
girl-beauty :  light  brown  hair  in  unwieldy  masses  ;  skin 
wonderfully  clear  and  transparent,  and  that  flushed  at  a 
rebuke,  or  a  run  down  the  village  street,  till  her  cheeks 
blazed  with  scarlet ;  a  lip  delicately  thin,  but  blood- red, 
and  exquisitely  cut ;  a  great  hazel  eye,  that  in  her  mo 
ments  of  glee,  or  any  occasional  excitement,  fairly 
danced  and  sparkled  with  a  kind  of  insane  merriment, 
and  at  other  times  took  on  a  demure  and  pensive  look, 
which  to  future  wooers  might  possibly  prove  the  more 
dangerous  of  the  two.  The  features  named  make  up  a 
captivating  girlish  beauty,  but  one  which,  under  a  New 
England  atmosphere,  is  rarely  carried  forward  into 
womanhood.  The  lips  grow  pinched  and  bloodless  ; 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  159 

the  skin  blanched  against  all  proof  of  blushes ;  the 
eyes  sunken,  and  the  blithe  sparkle  that  was  so  full  of 
infectious  joy  is  lost  forever  in  that  exhausting  blaze 
of  girlhood.  But  we  make  no  prophecy  in  regard  to 
the  future  of  our  little  friend  Rose.  Adele  thinks  her 
very  charming ;  Reuben  is  disposed  to  rank  her  — 
whatever  Phil  may  think  or  say  —  far  above  Suke 
Boody.  And  in  his  reading  of  the  delightful  "  Chil 
dren  of  the  Abbey,"  which  he  has  stolen,  (by  favor  of 
Phil,  who  owns  the  book,)  he  has  thought  of  Rose 
when  Amanda  first  appeared ;  and  when  the  divine 
Amanda  is  in  tears,  he  has  thought  of  Rose  ;  and  when 
Amanda  smiles,  with  Mortimer  kneeling  at  her  feet,  he 
has  still  thought  of  Rose. 

These  four,  Adele,  Phil,  Rose,  and  Reuben,  are  fel 
low-attendants  at  the  school  of  the  excellent  Miss  Betsy 
Onthank.  The  school-house  itself  is  a  modest  one,  and 
stands  upon  a  cross-road  leading  from  the  main  street 
of  the  village,  and  is  upon  the  side  of  the  little  brook 
which  courses  through  the  valley  lying  to  the  westward. 
A  half-dozen  or  more  of  sugar-maples  stand  near  it, 
and  throw  over  it  a  grateful  shade  in  August.  In 
March  these  trees  are  exposed  to  a  series  of  tappings 
on  the  part  of  the  more  mechanically  inclined  of  the 
pupils,  —  Phil  Elderkin  being  chiefest,  —  and  gimlets, 
quills,  and  dinner-pails  are  brought  into  requisition 
with  prodigious  results.  In  the  heats  of  summer,  and 


160  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

when  the  brook  is  low,  adventurous  ones,  of  whom 
Reuben  is  chiefest,  undertake  to  dam  its  current;  and 
it  being  traditional  in  the  school  that  one  day  a  strange 
fisherman  once  took  out  two  trout,  half  as  long  as  Miss 
Onthank's  ruler,  from  under  the  bridge  by  which  the 
high  road  crosses  the  brook,  Reuben  plies  every  arti 
fice,  whether  of  bent  pins,  or  hooks  purchased  from  the 
Tew  partners,  (unknown  to  Aunt  Eliza,  who  is  preju 
diced  against  fish-hooks  as  dangerous,)  to  catch  a  third ; 
and  finding  other  resources  vain,  he  punches  two  or 
three  holes  through  the  bottom  of  his  little  dinner-pail, 
to  make  a  scoop-net  of  it,  and  manfully  wades  under 
the  bridge  to  explore  all  the  hollows  of  that  unknown 
region.  While  in  this  precarious  position,  he  is  re 
ported  by  some  timid  child  to  the  mistress,  who  straight 
way  sallies  out,  ferule  in  hand  and  cap-strings  flying, 
and  orders  him  to  land  ;  which  Reuben,  taking  warning 
by  the  threatening  tone  of  the  old  lady,  refuses,  unless 
she  promises  not  to  flog  him ;  and  the  kind-hearted 
mistress,  fearing  too  long  exposure  of  the  lad  to  the 
chilly  water,  gives  the  promise.  But  with  the  tell-tale 
pail  dangling  at  his  belt,  he  does  not  escape  so  easily 
the  inquisitive  Aunt  Eliza. 

The  excellent  Miss  Onthank  —  for  by  this  title  the 
parson  always  compliments  her  —  is  a  type  of  a  school 
mistress  which  is  found  no  longer :  grave,  stately,  with 
two  great  moppets  of  hair  on  either  side  her  brow,  (as 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  161 

in  the  old  engravings  of  Louis  Philippe's  good  queen 
Amelia,)  very  resolute,  very  learned  in  the  boundaries 
of  all  Christian  and  heathen  countries,  patient  to  a  fault, 
with  a  marvelous  capacity  for  pointing  out  with  her 
bodkin  every  letter  to  some  wee  thing  at  its  first  stage 
of  spelling,  and  yet  keeping  an  eye  upon  all  the  school 
room  ;  reading  a  chapter  from  the  Bible,  and  saying  a 
prayer  each  morning  upon  her  bended  knees,  —  the 
little  ones  all  kneeling  in  concert,  —  with  an  air  that 
would  have  adorned  the  most  stately  prioress  of  a  con 
vent  ;  using  her  red  ferule  betimes  on  little,  mischiev 
ous,  smarting  hands,  yet  not  over-severe,  and  kind  be 
neath  all  her  gravity.  She  regards  Adele  with  a  pe 
culiar  tenderness,  and  hopes  to  make  herself  the  hum 
ble  and  unworthy  instrument  of  redeeming  her  from 
the  wicked  estate  in  which  she  has  been  reared.  And 
AdMe,  though  not  comprehending  the  excess  of  her 
zeal,  and  opening  her  eyes  in  great  wonderment  when 
the  good  woman  talks  about  her  "  providential  deliver 
ance  from  the  artful  snares  of  the  adversary,"  is  as 
free  in  her  talk  with  the  grave  mistress  as  if  she  were 
her  mother  confessor. 

Phil  and  Reuben,  being  the  oldest  boys  of  the 
school,  resent  the  indignity  of  being  still  subject  to 
woman  rule  by  a  concerted  series  of  rebellious  out 
breaks.  Some  six  or  eight  months  after  the  arrival  of 
Adele  upon  the  scene,  this  rebel  attitude  culminates  in 

VOL.    I.  11 


162  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

an  incident  that  occasions  a  change  of  programme. 
The  rebels  on  their  way  to  school  espy  a  few  clam 
shells  before  some  huckster's  door,  and,  putting  two  or 
three  in  their  pockets,  seize  the  opportunity  when  the 
good  lady's  eyes  are  closed  in  the  morning  prayer  to 
send  t\vo  or  three  scaling  about  the  room,  which  fall 
with  a  clatter  among  the  startled  little  ones.  One, 
aimed  more  justly  by  Reuben,  strikes  the  grave  mis 
tress  full  upon  the  forehead,  and  leaves  a  red  cut  from 
which  one  or  two  beads  of  blood  trickle  down. 

Adele,  who  has  not  learned  yet  that  obstinate  closing 
of  the  eyes  which  most  of  the  scholars  have  been 
taught,  and  to  whom  the  sight  recalls  the  painted  heads 
of  martyrs  in  an  old  church  at  Marseilles,  gives  a  little 
hysteric  scream.  But  the  mistress,  with  face  unchanged 
and  voice  uplifted  and  unmoved,  completes  her  relig 
ious  duty. 

The  whole  school  is  horrified,  on  rising  from  their 
knees,  at  sight  of  the  old  lady's  bleeding  head.  The 
mistress  wipes  her  forehead  calmly,  and,  picking  up  the 
shell  at  her  feet,  says,  •'  Who  threw  this  ?  " 

There  is  silence  in  the  room. 

"  Adele."  she  continues,  "  I  heard  you  scream,  child ; 
do  you  know  who  threw  this  ?  " 

Adele  gives  a  quick,  inquiring  glance  at  Reuben, 
whose  face  is  imperturbable,  rallies  her  courage  for  a 
struggle  against  the  will  of  the  mistress,  and  then 
bursts  into  tears. 


DOCTOR    JOHNS.  163 

Reuben  cannot  stand  this. 

"  /  threw  it,  marm,"  says  he,  with  a  great  tremor  in 
his  voice. 

The  mistress  beckons  him  to  her,  and,  as  he  walks 
thither,  motions  to  a  bench  near  her,  and  says 
gravely,  — 

"  Sit  by  me,  Reuben." 

There  he  keeps  till  school-hours  are  over,  wondering 
what  shape  the  punishment  will  take.  At  last,  when 
all  are  gone,  the  mistress  leads  him  into  her  private 
closet,  and  says  solemnly,  — 

"  Reuben,  this  is  a  crime  against  God.  I  forgive 
you  ;  I  hope  He  may  ;  "  and  she  bids  him  kneel  beside 
her,  while  she  prays  in  a  way  that  makes  the  tears  start 
to  the  eyes  of  the  boy. 

Then,  home,  —  she  walking  by  his  side,  and  leading 
him  straight  into  the  study  of  the  grave  Doctor,  to 
whom  she  unfolds  the  story,  begging  him  not  to  punish 
the  lad,  believing  that  he  is  penitent.  And  the  meek 
ness  and  kindliness  of  the  good  woman  make  a  Chris 
tian  picture  for  the  mind  of  Reuben,  in  sad  contrast 
with  the  prim  austerity  of  Aunt  Eliza,  —  a  picture  that 
he  never  loses,  —  that  keeps  him  meekly  obedient  for 
the  rest  of  the  quarter ;  after  which,  by  the  advice  of 
Miss  Onthank,  both  Phil  and  Reuben  are  transferred 
to  the  boys'  academy  upon  the  Common. 


xxn. 

MEANTIME,  Adele  is  making  friends  in  Ashfield 
and  in  the  parsonage.  The  irrepressible  buoy 
ancy  of  her  character  cannot  be  kept  under  even  by 
the  severity  of  conduct  which  belongs  to  the  home  of 
the  Doctor.  If  she  yields  rigid  obedience  to  all  the 
laws  of  the  household,  as  she  is  taught  to  do,  her 
vivacity  sparkles  all  the  more  in  those  short  intervals 
of  time  when  the  laws  are  silent.  There  is  something 
in  this  beaming  mirth  of  hers  which  the  Doctor  loves, 
though  he  struggles  against  the  love.  lie  shuts  his 
door  fast,  that  the  snatches  of  some  profane  song  from 
her  little  lips  (with  him  all  French  songs  are  profane) 
may  not  come  in  to  disturb  him  ;  but  as  her  voice  rises 
cheerily,  higher  and  higher,  in  the  summer  dusk,  he 
catches  himself  lending  a  profane  ear ;  the  blithcness, 
the  sweetness,  the  mellowness  of  her  tones  win  upon 
his  dreary  solitude  ;  there  is  something  softer  in  them 
than  in  the  measured  vocables  of  sister  Eliza ;  it  brings 
a  souvenir  of  the  girlish  Rachel,  and  his  memory  floats 
back  upon  the  strains  of  the  new  singer,  to  the  days 
when  that  dear  voice  filled  his  heart ;  and  he  thinks  — 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  165 

thanking  Adaly  for  the  thought  —  she  is  singing  with 
the  angels  now  ! 

But  the  spinster,  who  has  no  ear  for  music,  in  the 
midst  of  such  a  carol,  will  cry  out  in  sharp  tones  from 
her  chamber,  "  Adele,  Adele,  not  so  loud,  child !  you 
will  disturb  the  Doctor  ! " 

Even  then  Adele  has  her  resource  in  the  garden  and 
the  orchard,  where  she  never  tires  of  wandering  up 
and  down,  —  and  never  wandering  there  but  some  frag 
ment  of  a  song  breaks  from  her  lips. 

From  time  to  time  the  Doctor  summons  her  to  his 
study  to  have  serious  talk  with  her.  She  has,  indeed, 
shared  the  Saturday-night  instruction  in  the  Catechism, 
in  company  with  Reuben,  and  being  quick  at  words,  no 
matter  how  long  they  may  be,  she  has  learned  it  all ; 
and  Reuben  and  she  dash  through  "  what  is  required  " 
and  "  what  is  forbidden  "  and  "  the  reasons  annexed  " 
like  a  pair  of  prancing  horses,  kept  diligently  in  hand 
by  that  excellent  whip,  Miss  Johns.  But  the  study  has 
not  wrought  that  gravity  in  the  mind  of  the  child 
which  the  good  parson  had  hoped  for  ;  the  seed,  he 
fears,  has  fallen  upon  stony  places.  He  therefore,  as 
we  have  said,  summons  her  from  time  to  time  to  his 
study. 

And  Adele  comes,  always  at  the  first  summons,  with 
a  tripping  step,  and,  with  a  little  coquettish  adjustment 
of  her  dress  and  hair,  flings  herself  into  the  big  chair 
before  him,  — 


166  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

"  Now,  New  Papa,  here  I  am  !  " 

"  Ah,  Adaly  !  I  wish,  child,  that  you  could  be  more 
serious  than  you  are." 

"  Serious  !  ha  !  ha  !  "  —  (she  sees  a  look  of  pain  on 
the  face  of  the  Doctor,)  "  but  I  will  be,  —  I  am  ;  "  and 
with  great  effort  she  throws  a  most  unnatural  expres 
sion  of  repose  into  her  face. 

"  You  are  a  good  girl,  Adaly  ;  but  this  is  not  the 
seriousness  I  want  to  find  in  you.  I  want  you  to  feel, 
my  child,  that  you  are  walking  on  the  brink  of  a  preci 
pice,  —  that  your  heart  is  desperately  wicked." 

"  Oh,  no,  New  Papa !  you  don't  think  I  'm  desper 
ately  wicked  ? "  —  and  she  says  it  with  a  charming 
eagerness  of  manner. 

"  Yes,  desperately  wicked,  Adaly,  —  leaning  to  the 
things  of  this  world,  and  not  fastening  your  affections 
on  things  above,  on  the  realities  beyond  the  grave." 

"  But  all  that  is  so  far  away,  New  Papa  !  " 

"  Not  so  far  as  you  think,  child  ;  they  may  come 
to-day." 

Adele  is  sobered  in  earnest  now,  and  tosses  her  little 
feet  back  and  forth,  in  an  agony  of  apprehension. 

The  Doctor  continues,  — 

"  To-day,  if  ye  will  hear  his  voice,  harden  not  your 
hearts  " ;  and  the  sentiment  and  utterance  are  so  like 
to  the  usual  ones  of  the  pulpit,  that  Adele  takes  cour 
age  again. 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  167 

The  little  girl  has  a  profound  respect  for  the  Doctor ; 
his  calmness,  his  equanimity,  his  persistent  zeal  in  his 
work,  would  alone  provoke  it.  But  she  sees,  further 
more,  —  what  she  does  not  see  always  in  "  Aunt  Eliza," 
—  a  dignity  of  character  that  is  proof  against  all  irri 
tating  humors  ;  then,  too,  he  has  appeared  to  Adele  a 
very  pattern  of  justice.  She  had  taken  exceptions, 
indeed,  when,  on  one  or  two  rare  occasions,  he  had 
reached  down  the  birch  rod  which  lay  upon  the  same 
hooks  with  the  sword  of  Major  Johns,  in  the  study,  and 
had  called  in  Eeuben  for  extraordinary  discipline ;  but 
the  boy's  manifest  acquiescence  in  the  affair  when  his 
cool  moments  came  next  morning,  and  the  melancholy 
air  of  kindness  with  which  the  Doctor  went  in  to  kiss 
him  a  good-night,  after  such  regimen,  kept  alive  her 
faith  in  the  unvarying  justice  of  the  parson.  Therefore 
she  tried  hard  to  torture  her  poor  little  heart  into  a 
feeling  of  its  own  blackness,  (for  that  it  was  very  black 
she  had  the  good  man's  averment,)  she  listened  gravely 
to  all  he  had  to  urge,  and  when  he  had  fairly  over 
burdened  her  with  the  enumeration  of  her  wicked, 
worldly  appetites,  she  could  only  say,  with  a  burst  of 
emotion,  — 

"  Well,  but,  New  Papa,  the  good  God  will  forgive 
me." 

"  Yes,  Adaly,  yes,  —  I  trust  so,  if  forgiveness  be 
sought  in  fear  and  trembling.  But  remember, '  When 


168  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

God  created  man,  he  entered  into  a  covenant  of  life 
with  him  upon  condition  of  perfect  obedience.'  " 

This  brings  back  to  poor  Adele  the  drudgery  of  the 
Saturday's  Catechism,  associated  with  the  sharp  cor 
rectives  of  Aunt  Eliza  ;  and  she  can  only  offer  a  plead 
ing  kiss  to  the  Doctor,  and  ask  plaintively,  — 

"  May  I  go  now  ?  " 

"  One  moment,  Adaly,"  —  and  he  makes  her  kneel 
beside  him,  while  he  prays,  fervently,  passionately, 
drawing  her  frail  little  figure  to  himself,  even  as  he 
prays,  as  if  he  would  carry  her  with  him  in  his  arms 
into  the  celestial  presence. 

The  boy  Reuben,  too,  has  had  his  seasons  of  this 
closet  struggle  ;  but  they  are  rarer  now  ;  the  lad  has 
shrewdly  learned  to  adjust  himself  to  all  the  require 
ments  of  such  occasions.  lie  has  put  on  a  leaden  ac 
quiescence  in  the  Doctor's  theories,  whether  with  regard 
to  sanctification  or  redemption,  that  is  most  dishearten 
ing  to  the  parson.  Does  any  question  of  the  Doctor's, 
by  any  catch  -  word,  suggest  an  answer  from  the 
"  Shorter  Catechism  "  as  applicable,  Eeuben  is  ready 
with  it  on  the  instant. 

Does  the  Doctor  ask,  — 

"  Do  you  know,  my  son,  the  sinfulness  of  the  estate 
in  which  you  are  living  ?  " 

"  Sinfulness  of  the  estate  whereunto  man  fell  ? " 
says  Reuben,  briskly.  "  Know  it  like  a  book  :  — '  Con- 


DOCTOR   JOHNS.  169 

sists  in  the  guilt  of  Adam's  first  sin,  the  want  of  original 
righteousness,  and  the  corruption  of  his  whole  nature, 
which  is  commonly  called  original  sin,  together  with  all 
actual  transgressions  which  proceed  from  it.'  There  's 
a  wasp  on  your  shoulder,  father,  —  there  's  two  of  'em. 
I  '11  kill  'em." 

No  wonder  the  good  Doctor  is  disheartened,  and 
trusts  more  and  more,  in  respect  to  his  boy,  to  the  silent 
influences  of  the  Spirit. 

Adele  has  no  open  quarrels  with  Miss  Johns  ;  she  is 
obedient ;  she,  too,  has  fallen  under  the  influence  of 
that  magnetic  voice,  and  accepts  the  orders  and  the 
commendations  conveyed  by  it  as  if  they  were  utter 
ances  of  Fate.  Yet,  with  her  childish  instincts,  she 
has  formed  a  very  fair  estimate  of  the  character  of 
Miss  Eliza  ;  it  is  doubtful  even  if  she  has  not  fathomed 
it  in  certain  directions  more  correctly  and  profoundly 
than  the  grave  Doctor.  She  sees  clearly  that  the  spin 
ster's  unvarying  solicitude  in  regard  to  the  dress  and 
appearance  of  "  dear  Adele  "  is  due  more  to  that  hard 
pride  of  character  which  she  nurses  every  day  of  her 
life  than  to  any  tenderness  for  the  little  stranger.  For 
at  the  hands  of  her  old  godmother  and  of  her  father 
Adele  has  known  what  real  tenderness  was.  It  is  a 
lesson  children  never  unlearn. 

"  Adele,  my  dear,  you  look  charmingly  to-day,  with 
that  pink  bow  in  your  hair.  Do  you  know,  I  think  pink 
is  becoming  to  you,  my  child  ?  " 


170  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

And  Adele  listens  with  a  composed  smile,  not  unwil 
ling  to  be  admired.  What  girl  of —  any  age  is  ?  But 
the  admiration  of  Miss  Johns  does  not  touch  her ;  it 
never  calls  a  tear  to  her  eye. 

In  the  bright  belt- buckle,  in  the  big  leg-of-mutton 
sleeves,  in  the  glittering  brooch  containing  coils  of  the 
Johns'  hair,  in  the  jaunty  walk  and  authoritative  air  of 
the  spinster,  the  quick,  keen  eye  of  Adele  sees  some 
thing  more  than  the  meek  Christian  teacher  and  friend. 
It  is  a  sin  in  her  to  see  it,  perhaps ;  but  she  cannot 
help  it. 

Miss  Johns  has  not  succeeded  in  exciting  the  jeal 
ousy  of  Reuben,  —  at  least,  not  in  the  manner  she  had 
hoped.  Her  influence  over  him  is  clearly  on  the  wane. 
He  sees,  indeed,  her  exaggerated  devotion  to  the  little 
stranger,  —  which  serves  in  her  presence,  at  least,  to 
call  out  all  his  indifference.  Yet  even  this,  Adele,  with 
her  girlish  instinct,  seems  to  understand,  too,  and  bears 
the  boy  no  grudge  in  consequence  of  it.  Nay,  when 
he  has  received  some  special  administration  of  the  par 
son's  discipline,  she  allows  her  sympathy  to  find  play  in 
a  tender  word  or  two  that  touch  Reuben  more  than  he 
dares  to  show. 

And  when  they  meet  down  the  orchard,  away  from 
the  lynx  eye  of  Aunt  Eliza,  there  are  rare  apples  far 
out  upon  overhanging  limbs  that  he  can  pluck,  by  dint 
of  venturous  climbing,  for  her;  and  as  he  sees  through 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  171 

the  boughs  her  delicate  figure  tripping  through  the 
grass,  and  lingers  to  watch  it,  there  comes  a  thought 
that  she  must  be  the  Amanda  of  the  story,  and  not 
Rose,  —  and  he,  perched  in  the  apple-tree,  a  glowing 
Mortimer. 


XXIII. 

TTN  the  year  183  -,  Mr.  Maverick  writes  to  his  friend 
-*-  Johns  that  the  disturbed  condition  of  public  affairs 
in  France  will  compel  him  to  postpone  his  intended 
visit  to  America,  and  may  possibly  detain  him  for  a 
long  time  to  come.  He  further  says,  —  "  In  order  to 
prevent  all  possible  hazards  which  may  grow  out  of 
our  revolutionary  fervor  on  this  side  of  the  water,  I 
have  invested  in  United  States  securities,  for  the  bene 
fit  of  my  dear  little  Adele,  a  sum  of  money  which  will 
yield  some  seven  hundred  dollars  a  year.  Of  this  I 
propose  to  make  you  trustee,  and  desire  that  you  should 
draw  so  much  of  the  yearly  interest  as  you  may  deter 
mine  to  be  for  her  best  good,  denying  her  no  reasona 
ble  requests,  and  making  your  household  reckoning 
clear  of  all  possible  deficit  on  her  account. 

"  I  am  charmed  with  the  improved  tone  of  her  let 
ters,  and  am  delighted  to  see  by  them  that  even  under 
your  grave  regimen  she  has  not  lost  her  old  buoyancy 
of  spirits.  My  dear  Johns,  I  owe  you  a  debt  in  this 
matter  which  I  shall  never  be  able  to  repay.  Kiss  the 
little  witch  for  me  ;  tell  her  that '  Papa  '  always  thinks 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  173 

of  her,  as  he  sits  solitary  upon  the  green  bench  under 
the  arbor.  God  bless  the  dear  one,  and  keep  all 
trouble  from  her !  " 

She,  gaining  in  height  now  month  by  month,  wins 
more  and  more  upon  the  grave  Doctor,  —  wins  upon 
Rose,  who  loves  her  as  she  loves  her  sisters,  —  wins 
upon  Phil,  whose  liking  for  her  is  becoming  demonstra 
tive  to  a  degree  that  prompts  a  little  jealousy  in  the 
warm-blooded  Reuben,  and  that  drives  out  all  thought 
of  the  pink  cheeks  and  fat  arms  of  Suke  Boody.  Miss 
Johns  still  regards  her  with  admiring  eyes,  and  shows 
all  her  old  assiduity  in  looking  after  the  comforts  and 
the  silken  trappings  of  the  French  guest.  Day  after 
day,  in  summer  weather,  Rose  and  she  idle  together 
along  the  embowered  paths  of  the  village ;  the  Tew 
partners  greet  the  pair  with  smiles ;  good  Mistress  El- 
derkin  has  always  a  cordial  welcome  ;  the  stout  Squire 
stoops  to  kiss  the  little  Jesuit,  who  blushes  at  the  ten 
der  affront  through  all  the  brownness  of  her  cheek,  like 
a  rose.  Day  after  day  the  rumble  of  the  mill  breaks  on 
the  country  quietude  ;  and  as  autumn  comes  in,  burn 
ing  with  all  its  forest  fires,  the  farmer's  flails  beat  time 
together,  as  they  did  ten  years  before. 

At  the  academy,  Phil  and  Reuben  plot  mischief,  and 
they  cement  their  friendship  with  not  a  few  boyish 
quarrels. 

Thus,  Reuben,  in  the  way  of  the  boyish  pomologists 


174  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

of  those  days,  has  buried  at  midsummer  in  the  orchard 
a  dozen  or  more  of  the  finest  windfalls  from  the  early 
apple-trees,  that  they  may  mellow,  away  from  the  air, 
into  good  eating  condition,  and  he  has  marked  the  spot 
in  his  boyish  way  with  a  little  pyramid  of  stones. 
Strolling  down  the  orchard  a  few  days  later,  he  sees 
Phil  coming  away  from  that  locality,  with  his  pockets 
bulging  out  ominously,  and  munching  a  great  apple 
with  extraordinary  relish.  Perhaps  there  is  a  thought 
that  he  may  design  a  gift  out  of  the  stolen  stores  for 
Adele  ;  at  any  rate,  Reuben  flies  at  him. 

"  I  say,  Phil,  that 's  doosed  mean  now,  to  be  stealing 
my  apples  ! " 

"  Who  's  stole  your  apples  ?  "  says  Phil,  with  a  great 
roar  of  voice. 

"  You  have,"  says  Reuben  ;  and  having  now  come 
near  enough  to  find  his  pyramid  of  stones  all  laid  low, 
he  says  more  angrily,  —  "  You  're  a  thief!  and  you  've 
got  'em  in  your  pocket !  " 

"Thief!"  says  Phil,  looking  threateningly,  and 
throwing  away  his  apple  half-eaten ;  "  if  you  call  me 
a  thief,  I  say  you  're  a you  know  what." 

"  Well,  blast  you,"  says  Reuben,  boiling  with  rage, 
"  say  it !  Call  me  a  liar,  if  you  dare  !  " 

"  I  do  dare,"  says  Phil,  "  if  you  accuse  me  of  steal 
ing  your  apples  ;  and  I  say  you  're  a  liar,  and  be  darned 
to  you ! " 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  175 

At  this,  Reuben,  though  he  is  the  shorter  by  two 
or  three  inches,  and  no  match  for  his  foe  at  fisticuffs, 
plants  a  blow  straight  in  Philip's  face.  (He  said  af 
terward,  when  all  was  settled,  that  he  was  ten  times 
more  mortified  to  think  that  he  had  done  such  a  thing 

O 

in  his  father's  orchard.) 

But  Phil  closed  upon  him,  and  kneading  him  with 
his  knuckles  in  the  back,  and  with  a  trip,  threw  him 
heavily,  falling  prone  upon  him.  Reuben,  in  a  frenzy, 
and  with  a  torrent  of  much  worse  language  than  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  using,  was  struggling  to  turn  him, 
when  a  sharp,  loud  voice,  which  they  both  knew  only 
too  well,  came  down  the  wind,  —  "  Boys  !  boys  !  "  and 
presently  the  Doctor  comes  up  panting. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  Philip,  I  'm  ashamed  of 
you ! "  he  continues ;  and  Philip  rises. 

Reuben,  rising,  too,  the  instant  after,  and  with  his 
fury  unchecked,  dashes  at  Phil  again ;  when  the  Doc 
tor  seizes  him  by  the  collar  and  drags  him  aside. 

"  He  struck  me,"  says  Phil. 

"  And  he  stole  my  apples  and  called  me  a  liar," 
says  Reuben,  with  the  tears  starting,  though  he  tries 
desperately  to  keep  them  back,  seeing  that  Phil  shows 
no  such  evidence  of  emotion. 

"  Tut !  tut !  "  says  the  Doctor,  —  "  you  are  both  too 
angry  for  a  straight  story.  Come  with  me." 

And  taking  each  by  the  hand,  he  led  them  through 


176  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

the  garden  and  house,  directly  into  his  study.  There 
he  opens  a  closet-door,  with  the  sharp  order,  "  Step 
in  here,  Reuben,  until  I  hear  Philip's  story."  This 
Phil  tells  straightforwardly,  —  how  he  was  passing 
through  the  orchard  with  a  pocketful  of  apples,  which 
a  neighbor's  boy  had  given,  and  how  Reuben  came 
upon  him  with  swift  accusation,  and  then  the  fight. 
"  But  he  hurt  me  more  than  I  hurt  him,"  says  Phil, 
wiping  his  nose,  which  showed  a  little  ooze  of  blood." 

"  Good  ! "  says  the  Doctor,  —  "I  think  you  tell  the 
truth." 

"  Thank  you,"  says  Phil,  —  "  I  know  I  do,  Doctor." 

Next  Reuben  is  called  out. 

"  Do  you  know  he  took  the  apples  ?  "  asks  the  Doctor. 

"  Don't  know,"  says  Reuben,  —  "  but  he  was  by  the 
place,  and  the  stones  thrown  down." 

"  And  is  that  sufficient  cause,  Reuben,  for  accusing 
your  friend  ?  " 

At  which,  Reuben,  shifting  his  position  uneasily 
from  one  foot  to  the  other,  says,  — 

"  I  believe  he  did,  though." 

"  Stop,  sir !  "  says  the  Doctor  in  a  voice  that  makes 
Reuben  sidle  away. 

"  Here,"  says  Phil,  commiserating  him  in  a  grand 
way,  and  beginning  to  discharge  his  pockets  on  the 
Doctor's  table,  "  he  may  have  them,  if  he  wants  them." 

Reuben  stares  at  them  a  moment  in  astonishment, 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  177 

then  breaks  out  with  a  great  tremor  in  his  voice,  but 
roundly  enough,  — 

"  By  George !  they  're  not  the  same  apples  at  all. 
I  'm  sorry  I  told  you  that,  Phil." 

"  Don't  say  '  By  George '  before  me,  or  anywhere 
else,"  says  the  Doctor,  sharply.  "  It 's  but  a  sneaking 
oath,  sir ;  yet "  (more  gently)  "  I  'm  glad  of  your 
honesty,  Reuben." 

At  the  instigation  of  the  parson  they  shake  hands ; 
after  which  he  leads  them  both  into  his  closet,  beckon 
ing  them  to  kneel  on  either  side  of  him,  as  he  com 
mends  them  in  his  stately  way  to  Heaven,  trusting 
that  they  may  live  in  good-fellowship  henceforth,  and 
keep  His  counsel,  who  was  the  great  Peacemaker, 
always  in  their  hearts.  . 

Next  morning,  when  Reuben  goes  to  reconnoiter 
the  place  of  his  buried  treasure,  he  finds  all  safe,  and 
taking  the  better  half  of  the  fruit,  he  marches  away 
with  a  proud  step  to  the  Elderkin  house.  The  basket 
is  for  Phil.  But  Phil  is  not  at  home  ;  so  he  leaves 
the  gift,  and  a  message,  with  a  short  story  of  it  all, 
with  the  tender  Rose,  whose  eyes  dance  with  girlish 
admiration  at  this  stammered  tale  of  his,  and  her 
fingers  tremble  when  they  touch  the  boy's  in  the 
transfer  of  his  little  burden. 

Reuben  walks  away  prouder  yet ;  is  not  this  sweet- 
faced  girl,  after  all,  Amanda  ? 

VOL.     I.  12 


178  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

There  come  quarrels,  however,  with  the  academy 
teacher  not  so  easily  smoothed  over.  The  Doctor  and 
the  master  hold  long  consultations.  Reuben,  it  is  to 
be  feared,  has  bad  associates.  The  boy  makes  interest, 
through  Nat  Boody,  with  the  stage-driver ;  and  one 
day  the  old  ladies  are  horrified  at  seeing  the  parson's 
son  mounted  on  the  box  of  the  coach  beside  the  driver, 
and  putting  his  boyish  fingers  to  the  test  of  four-in- 
hand.  Of  course  he  is  a  truant  that  day  from  school, 
and  toiling  back  footsore  and  weary,  after  tea,  he  can 
give  but  a  lame  account  of  himself.  He  brings, 
another  time,  a  horrid  fighting  cur,  (as  Miss  Eliza 
terms  it  in  her  disgust,)  for  which  he  has  bartered 
away  the  new  muffler  that  the  spinster  has  knit.  He 
thinks  it  a  .splendid  bargain.  Miss  Johns  and  the 
Doctor  do  not. 

He  is  reported  by  credible  witnesses  as  loitering 
about  the  tavern  in  the  summer  nights,  long  after 
prayers  are  over  at  the  parsonage,  and  the  lights  are 
out ;  thus  it  is  discovered,  to  the  great  horror  of  the 
household,  that  by  connivance  with  Phil  he  makes 
his  way  over  the  roof  of  the  kitchen  from  his  cham 
ber-window  to  join  in  these  night  forays.  After  long 
consideration,  in  which  Grandfather  Handby  is  brought 
into  consultation,  it  is  decided  to  place  the  boy  for  a 
while  under  the  charge  of  the  latter  for  discipline, 
and  with  the  hope  that  removal  from  his  town  associ- 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  179 

ates  may  work  good.  But  within  a  fortnight  after  the 
change  is  made,  Grandfather  Handby  drives  across 
the  country  in  his  wagon,  with  Reuben  seated  beside 
him  with  a  comic  gravity  on  his  face  ;  and  the  old 
gentleman,  pleading  the  infirmities  of  age,  and  giv 
ing  the  boy  a  farewell  tap  on  the  cheek,  (for  he  loves 
him,  though  he  has  whipped  him  almost  daily,)  re 
stores  him  to  the  paternal  roof. 

At  this  crisis,  Squire  Elderkin  —  who,  to  tell  truth, 
has  a  little  fear  of  the  wayward  propensities  of  the 
parson's  son  in  misleading  Phil  —  recommends  trial 
of  the  discipline  of  a  certain  Parson  Brummem  who 
fills  the  parish-pulpit  upon  Bolton  Hill.  This  dig 
nitary  was  a  tall,  lank,  leathern-faced  man,  of  incor 
ruptible  zeal  and  stately  gravity,  who  held  under  his 
stern  dominion  a  little  flock  of  two  hundred  souls, 
and  who,  eking  out  a  narrow  parochial  stipend  by 
the  week-day  office  of  teaching,  had  gained  large  re 
pute  for  his  subjugation  of  refractory  boys. 

A  feeble  little  invalid  wife  cringed  beside  him  along 
the  journey  of  life ;  and  it  would  be  pitiful  to  think 
that  she  had  not  long  ago  entered,  in  way  of  remuner 
ation,  upon  paths  of  pleasantness  beyond  the  grave. 

Parson  Brummem  received  Brother  Johns,  when 
he  drove  with  Reuben  to  the  parsonage-door,  on  that 
wild  waste  of  Bolton  Hill,  with  all  the  unction  of 
manner  that  belonged  to  him  ;  but  it  was  so  grave 


180  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

an  unction  as  to  chill  poor  Reuben  to  the  marrow 
of  his  bones.  A  week's  experience  only  dispersed 
the  chill  when  the  tingle  of  the  parson's  big  rod 
wrought  a  glow  in  him  that  was  almost  madness.  Yet 
Reuben  chafed  not  so  much  at  the  whippings  —  to 
which  he  was  well  used  —  as  at  the  dreariness  of  the 
new  home,  the  melancholy  waste  of  common  over 
which  March  winds  blew  all  the  year,  the  pinched 
faces  that  met  him  without  other  recognition  than, 
"  One  o'  Parson  Brummem's  b'ys."  Nor  in-doors  was 
the  aspect  more  inviting:  a  big  red  table  around 
which  sat  six  fellow  -  martyrs  with  their  slates  and 
geographies,  a  tall  desk  at  which  Brummem  indited 
his  sermons,  and  from  time  to  time  a  little  side-door 
opening  timidly,  through  which  came  a  weary  wom 
an's  voice,  "  Ezekiel,  dear,  one  minute ! "  at  which 
the  great  man  strides  thither,  and  lends  his  great  ear 
to  the  family  council. 

Ah,  the  long,  weary  mornings,  when  the  sun,  pouring 
through  the  curtainless  south  windows  a  great  blaze 
upon  the  oaken  floor,  lights  up  for  Reuben  only  the  cob- 
webbed  corners,  the  faded  roundabouts  of  fellow-mar 
tyrs,  the  dismal  figures  of  Daboll,  the  shining  tail-coat 
of  Master  Brummem,  as  he  stalks  up  and  down  from 
hour  to  hour,  collecting  in  this  way  his  scattered 
thoughts  for  some  new  argumentative  thrust  of  the  quill 
into  the  sixthly  or  the  seventhly  of  his  next  week's  ser- 


DOCTOR   JOHNS.  181 

mon  !  And  the  long  and  weary  afternoons,  when  the 
sun  with  a  mocking  bounty  pours  through  the  dusty 
and  curtainless  windows  to  the  west,  lighting  only  again 
the  gray  and  speckled  roundabouts  of  the  fagging  boys, 
the  maps  of  Malte-Brun,  and  the  shining  forehead  of 
the  Brummem  ! 

There  is  a  dismal,  graceless,  bald  air  about  town  and 
house  and  master,  which  is  utterly  revolting  to  the  lad, 
whose  childish  feet  had  pattered  beside  the  tender 
Rachel  along  the  embowered  paths  of  Ashfield.  The 
lack  of  congeniality  affronts  his  whole  nature.  In  the 
keenness  of  his  martyrdom,  (none  the  less  real  because 
fancied,)  the  leathern-faced,  gaunt  Brummem  takes  the 
shape  of  some  Giant  Despair  with  bloody  maw  and 
mace,  —  and  he,  the  child  of  some  Christiana,  for 
whose  guiding  hand  he  gropes  vainly :  she  has  gone 
before  to  the  Celestial  City  ! 

The  rod  of  the  master  does  not  cure  the  chronic  state 
of  moody  rebellion  into  which  Reuben  lapses,  with 
these  fancies  on  him.  It  drives  him  at  last  to  an  act  of 
desperation.  The  lesson  in  Daboll  that  day  was  a  hard 
one  ;  but  it  was  not  the  lesson,  or  his  short-comings  in 
it,  —  it  was  not  the  hand  of  the  master,  which  had  been 
heavy  on  him,  —  but  it  was  a  vague,  dismal  sense  of 
the  dreariness  of  his  surroundings,  of  the  starched  looks 
that  met  him,  of  the  weary  monotony,  of  the  lack  of 
sympathy,  which  goaded  him  to  the  final  overt  act  of 


182  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

rebellion, — which  made  him  dash  his  leathern-bound 
arithmetic  full  into  the  face  of  the  master,  and  then  sit 
down,  burying  his  face  in  his  hands. 

The  stern  doctrines  of  Parson  Brummem  had  taught 
him,  at  least,  a  rigid  self-command.  He  did  not  strike 
the  lad.  But  recovering  from  his  amazement,  he  says, 
"  Very  well,  very  well,  Master  Reuben,  we  will  sleep 
upon  this ; "  and  then,  tapping  at  the  inner  door, 
"  Keziah,  make  ready  the  little  chamber  over  the  hall 
for  Master  Johns :  he  must  be  by  himself  to-night : 
give  him  a  glass  of  water  and  a  slice  of  dry  bread : 
nothing  else,  sir,  (turning  to  Reuben  now,)  until  you 
come  to  me  to-morrow  at  nine,  in  this  place,  and  ask 
my  pardon  ;  "  and  he  motions  him  to  the  door. 

Reuben  staggers  out,  —  staggers  up-stairs  into  the 
dismal  chamber.  It  looks  out  only  upon  a  bald 
waste  of  common.  Shortly  after,  a  slatternly  maid 
brings  his  prison  fare,  and,  with  a  little  kindly  discre 
tion,  has  added  secretly  a  roll  of  gingerbread.  Reuben 
thanks  her,  and  says,  "  You  're  a  good  woman,  Keziah  ; 
and  I  say,  won't  you  fetch  me  my  cap,  there  's  a  good 
un  ;  it 's  cold  here."  The  maid,  with  great  show  of 
caution,  complies ;  a  few  minutes  after,  the  parson 
comes,  and,  looking  in  warningly,  closes  and  locks  the 
door  outside. 

A  weary  evening  follows,  in  which  thoughts  of  Adele, 
of  nights  at  the  Elderkins',  of  Phil,  of  Rose,  flash  upon 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  183 

him,  and  spend  their  richness,  leaving  him  more  madly 
disconsolate.  Then  come  thoughts  of  the  morning 
humiliation,  of  the  boys  pointing  their  fingers  at  him 
after  school. 

"  No,  they  sha'n't,  by  George  !  " 

And  with  this  decision  he  dropped  asleep ;  with  this 
decision  ripened  in  him,  he  woke  at  three  in  the  morn 
ing,  —  waited  for  the  hall  clock  to  strike,  that  he  might 
be  sure  of  his  hour,  —  tied  together  the  two  sheets  of 
Mistress  Brummem's  bed,  opened  the  window  gently, 
dropped  out  his  improvised  cable,  slid  upon  it  safely  to 
the  ground,  and  before  day  had  broken  or  any  of  the 
towns-folk  were  astir,  had  crossed  all  the  more  open 
portion  of  the  village,  and  by  sunrise  had  plunged  into 
the  wooded  swamp-land  which  lay  three  miles  westward 
toward  the  river. 


XXIV. 

A  T  nine  next  morning,  prayers  and  breakfast  be- 
ing  dispatched,  —  during  which  Parson  Brum- 
mem  had  determined  to  leave  Reuben  to  the  sting 
of  his  conscience,  —  the  master  appears  in  the  school 
room  with  his  wristbands  turned  up,  and  his  ferule 
in  hand,  to  enforce  judgment  upon  the  culprit.  It 
had  been  a  frosty  night,  and  the  cool  October  air 
had  not  tempted  the  boys  to  any  wide  movement 
out  of  doors,  so  that  no  occupant  of  the  parsonage 
had  as  yet  detected  the  draggled  white  banner  that 
hung  from  the  prison-window. 

Through  Keziah,  the  parson  gave  orders  for  Master 
Johns  to  report  himself  at  once  in  the  school-room. 
The  maid  returned  presently,  clattering  down  the 
stairs  in  a  great  fright,  — 

"  Reuben  's  gone,  sir  !  " 

"  Gone  ? "  says  the  tall  master,  astounded.  lie  re 
presses  a  wriggle  of  healthful  satisfaction  on  the  part 
of  his  pupils  by  a  significant  lift  of  his  ferule,  then 
moves  ponderously  up  the  stairs  for  a  personal  visit 
to  the  chamber  of  the  culprit.  The  maid  had  given 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  185 

true  report ;  there  was  no  one  there.  Never  had  he 
been  met  with  such  barefaced  rebellion.  Truants, 
indeed,  there  had  been  in  days  gone  by ;  but  that 
a  pupil  under  discipline  should  have  tied  together 
Mistress  Brummem's  linen  and  left  it  draggling  in 

oo        o 

this  way,  in  the  sight  of  every  passer-by,  was  an 
affront  to  his  authority  which  he  had  not  deemed 
possible. 

An  hour  thereafter,  and  he  had  assigned  the  morn 
ing's  task  to  the  boys  (which  he  had  ventured  to 
lengthen  by  a  third,  in  view  —  as  he  said,  with  a 
grim  humor  —  of  their  extremely  cheerful  spirits)  ; 
established  Mistress  Brummem  in  temporary  charge, 
and  was  driving  his  white-faced  nag  down  the  road 
which  led  toward  Ashfield.  The  frosted  pools 
crackled  under  the  wheels  of  the  old  chaise ;  the 
heaving  horse  wheezed  as  the  stern  parson  gave  his 
loins  a  thwack  with  the  slackened  reins,  and  urged 
him  down  the  turnpike  which  led  away  through  the 
ill-kept  fields,  from  the  rambling,  slatternly  town. 
Stone  walls  that  had  borne  the  upheaval  of  twenty 
winters  reeled  beside  the  way.  Broad  scars  of  ocher- 
ous  earth,  from  which  the  turnpike-menders  had  dug 
material  to  patch  the  wheel-track,  showed  ooze  of 
yellow  mud  with  honeycombs  of  ice  rimming  their 
edges,  and  supporting  a  thin  film  of  sod  made  up  of 
lichens  and  the  roots  of  five-fingers.  Raw,  shapeless 


186  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

stones,  and  bald,  gray  rocks,  only  half  unearthed, 
cumbered  the  road  ;  while  bunches  of  dwarfed  birches, 
browsed  by  straying  cattle,  added  to  the  repulsiveness 
of  the  scene.  Nor  were  the  inclosed  lands  scarcely 
more  inviting.  Lean  shocks  of  corn  that  had  swayed 
under  the  autumn  winds  stretched  at  long  intervals 
across  fields  of  thin  stubble ;  a  few  half-ripened 
pumpkins,  hanging  yet  to  the  seared  vines,  —  whose 
leaves  had  long  since  been  shriveled  by  the  frost, 
—  showed  their  shining  green  faces  on  the  dank 
soil.  In  other  fields,  overrun  with  a  great  shaggy 
growth  of  rag- weed,  some  of  the  parson's  flock  — 
father  and  blue-nosed  boys  —  were  lifting  poor  crops 
of  "  bile-whites  "  or  "  merinos."  From  time  to  time, 
a  tall  house  jutted  upon  the  road,  with  unctuous 
pig-sty  under  the  lee  of  the  garden-fence  and  wood 
pile  sprawling  into  the  highway,  where  the  parson 
would  rein  up  his  nag,  and  make  inquiry  after  the 
truant  Reuben. 

A  half-dozen  of  these  stops  and  inquiries  proved 
wholly  vain  ;  yet  the  sturdy  parson  urged  his  poor, 
heaving  nag  forward,  until  he  had  come  to  the  little 
gate-house  which  thrust  itself  quite  across  the  high 
road  at  some  six  miles'  distance  from  Bolton  Church. 
No  stray  boy  had  passed  that  day.  Thereupon  the 
parson  turned,  and,  after  retracing  his  way  for  two 
miles  or  more,  struck  into  a  cross-road  which  led 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  187 

westward.  There  were  the  same  fruitless  inquiries 
here  at  the  scattered  houses,  and  Avhen  he  came  at 
length  upon  the  great  river-road  along  which  the 
boy  had  passed  at  the  first  dawn,  there  was  no  one 
who  could  tell  any  thing  of  him;  and  by  noon  the 
parson  reentered  the  village,  disconsolate  and  hungry. 
He  was  by  no  means  a  vindictive  man,  and  could 
very  likely  have  forgiven  Reuben  the  blow  he  had 
struck.  He  had  no  conception  of  the  hidden  causes 
which  had  wrought  in  the  lad  such  burst  of  anger. 
He  conceived  only  that  Satan  had  taken  hold  of  him, 
and  he  had  strong  faith  in  the  efficacy  of  the  rod 
for  driving  Satan  out. 

After  dinner  he  administered  a  sharp  lecture  to 
his  pupils,  admonishing  them  of  the  evils  of  disobe 
dience,  and  warning  them  that  "  God  sometimes  left 
bad  boys  to  their  own  evil  courses,  and  to  run 
like  the  herd  of  swine  into  which  the  unclean 
spirits  entered,  —  of  which  account  might  be  found 
in  Mark  v.  13,  —  down  a  steep  place,  and  be 
choked." 

The  parson  still  had  hope  that  Reuben  might  ap 
pear  at  evening ;  and  he  forecast  a  good  turn  which 
he  would  make,  in  such  event,  upon  the  parable  of 
the  Prodigal  Son  (with  the  omission,  however,  of  the 
fatted  calf).  But  the  prodigal  did  not  return.  Next 
day  there  was  the  same  hope,  but  fainter.  Still,  the 


188  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

prodigal  Reuben  did  not  return.  Whereupon  the 
parson  thought  it  his  duty  to  write  to  Brother  Johns, 
advising  him  of  the  escape  of  Reuben,  —  "  he  having 
stolen  away  in  the  night,  tying  together  and  much 
draggling  Mrs.  Brummem's  pair  of  company  sheets, 
(no  other  being  out  of  wash,)  and  myself  following 
after  vainly,  the  best  portion  of  a  day,  much  perturbed 
in  spirit,  in  my  chaise.  I  duly  instructed  my  parish 
ioners  to  report  him,  if  found,  which  has  not  been 
the  case.  I  trust  that  in  the  paternal  home,  if  he 
has  made  his  way  thither,  he  may  be  taught  to  open 
his  '  ear  to  discipline,'  and  '  return  from  iniquity.' 
Job  xxxvi.  10." 

The  good  parson  was  a  type  of  not  a  few  retired 
country  ministers  in  New  England  forty  years  ago : 
a  heavy-minded,  right-meaning  man  ;  utterly  inacces 
sible  to  any  of  the  graces  of  life  ;  no  bird  ever  sang 
in  his  ear ;  no  flower  ever  bloomed  for  his  eye ;  a 
man  to  whom  life  was  only  a  serious  spiritual  toil, 
and  all  human  joys  a  vanity  to  be  spurned;  preach 
ing  tediously  long  sermons,  and  counting  the  fatigue 
of  the  listeners  a  fitting  oblation  to  spiritual  truth  ; 
staggering  through  life  with  a  great  burden  of  theolo 
gies  on  his  back,  which  it  was  his  constant  struggle 
to  pack  into  smaller  and  smaller  compass,  —  not  so 
much,  we  fear,  for  the  relief  of  others  as  of  himself. 
Let  us  hope  that  the  burden  —  like  that  of  Christian 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  189 

in  the  "  Pilgrim's  Progress "  —  slipped  away  before 
he  entered  the  Celestial  Presence,  and  left  him  free 
to  enjoy  and  admire,  more  than  he  found  time  to 
do  on  earth,  the  beauty  of  that  blessed  angel  in  the 
higher  courts  whose  name  is  Charity. 


XXV. 

T)EUBEN,  meantime,  pushed  boldly  down  the 
-•-^  open  road,  until  broad  sunlight  warned  him  to 
a  safer  path  across  the  fields.  He  had  been  too 
much  of  a  rambler  during  those  long  Saturday  af 
ternoons  at  Ashfield,  to  have  any  dread  of  a  tramp 
through  swamp-land  or  briers.  "  Who  cared  for  wet 
feet  or  a  scratch  ?  Who  cared  for  a  rough  scramble 
through  the  bush,  or  a  wade  (if  it  came  to  that) 
through  ever  so  big  a  brook  ?  Who  cared  for  old 
Brummem  and  his  white-faced  nag  ? "  In  fact,  he 
had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  parson's  venerable 
chaise  lumbering  along  the  public  road  at  a  safe 
distance  away,  an  hour  before  noon ;  and  he  half 
wished  he  were  near  enough  to  give  the  jolly  old 
nag  a  good  switching  across  the  flanks.  He  had 
begged  a  bit  of  warm  breakfast  in  the  morning  at 
an  outlying  house,  and  at  the  hour  when  he  caught 
sight  of  his  pursuer  he  was  lying  under  the  edge  of 
a  wood,  lunching  upon  the  gingerbread  Keziah  had 
provided,  and  beginning  to  reckon  up  soberly  what 
was  to  be  done. 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  191 

His  first  impulse  had  been  simply  to  escape  a 
good  flogging  and  the  taunts  of  the  boys.  He  had 
shunned  the  direct  Ashfield  turnpike,  because  he 
knew  pursuit  —  if  there  were  any  —  would  lead  off 
in  that  direction.  From  the  river  road  he  might 
diverge  into  that,  if  he  chose.  But  if  he  went 
home,  —  what  then  ?  The  big  gray  eyes  of  Aunt 
Eliza  he  knew  would  greet  him  at  the  door,  looking 
thunderbolts.  Adele,  and  may  be  Rose,  would  wel 
come  him  in  kindly  way  enough,  —  but  very  pity 
ingly,  when  the  Doctor  should  summon  him  quietly 
into  his  low  study.  For  they  knew,  and  he  knew, 
that  the  big  rod  would  presently  come  down  from 
its  place  by  the  Major's  sword,  —  a  rod  that  never 
came  down,  except  it  had  some  swift  office  to  per 
form.  And  next  day,  perhaps,  —  whatever  might  be 
the  kindly  pleadings  of  Adele,  (thus  far  he  flattered 
himself,)  the  old  horse  Dobbins  would  be  in  harness 
to  carry  him  back  to  Bolton  Hill,  where  of  a  surety 
some  new  birch  was  already  in  pickle  for  the  trans 
gressor.  Or,  if  this  mortification  were  spared,  there 
would  be  the  same  weary  round  of  limitations  and 
exactions  from  which  he  longed  to  break  away.  And 
as  he  sits  there  under  the  lee  of  the  wood,  —  seeing 
presently  Brummem's  heavy  cavalry  wheel  and  retire 
from  pursuit,  —  the  whole  scene  of  his  last  alterca 
tion  in  the  study  at  Ashfield  drifts  before  him  again 
clear  as  day. 


192  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

"I  'm  bad,"  (this  was  the  way  he  broke  out  upon 
the  old  man  after  the  usual  discipline,)  —  "I  know 
I  'ra  bad,  and  all  the  worse  for  the  way  you  try  to 
make  me  good.  There  's  Phil  Elderkin,  now,  —  you 
say  to  me,  over  and  over,  '  See  Phil,  he  does  n't  do 
so.'  But  he  does,  —  only  his  father  knows  he  does  ; 
he  a'n't  punished,  if  he  is  n't  in  at  nine  o'clock  for 
prayers,  without  telling  where  he  's  been.  It  's  all 
underhanded  with  me,  and  with  Phil  it  's  all  above- 
board.  I  have  to  read  proper  books  that  I  don't 
care  a  copper  about,  and  so  I  steal  'em  into  my  cham 
ber  ;  and  Aunt  Eliza,  prying  about,  finds  '  Arabian 
Nights  '  hid  under  the  sheets  ;  and  then  there  's  a  row ! 
Phil  reads  'em ;  and  there  's  nobody  forever  look 
ing  over  his  shoulder  to  see  what  he  's  reading.  I 
think  Phil's  father  trusts  him  more  than  you  do 
me." 

"  But,  my  son,  you  tell  me  you  are  bad,  and  that  I 
can't  trust  you." 

"  You  can't,  because  you  don't ;  and  that  makes  me 
feel  the  Devil  in  me." 

"  My  son  !  " 

"  I  know  it ;  you  think  it 's  a  bad  word ;  but  Phil 
says  Devil ;  and  it 's  true.  And  besides,  you  forbid  my 
going  where  the  other  boys  go,  and  that  maddens  me 
and  makes  me  swear,  and  the  fellows  laugh  ;  and  be 
cause  I  can't  go,  I  do  something  worse." 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  193 

"  My  poor  Reuben,  do  you  know  where  such  badness 
will  lead  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know  ;  I  've  heard  it  often  enough  ;  it  '11 
lead  to  hell,  I  guess." 

"  Reuben  !  Reuben  !  what  does  this  mean  ?  " 

"  I  can't  help  it,  father.  There 's  Phil  and  Gus 
Hapgood  went  chestnutting  the  other  Saturday,  and  be 
cause  you  were  afraid  I  should  n  't  be  back  before  sun 
down  you  kept  me  at  home.  I  know  I  was  ten  times 
worse  than  if  I  'd  been  out  chestnutting  all  night  and 
half  Sunday.  I  hate  Sunday  !  " 

"  That,  Reuben,  is  because  you  are  wicked." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so." 

"  I  am  glad,  my  son,  that  you  see  your  sins  and  ad 
mit  them." 

"  There  's  not  much  comfort  in  that,"  Reuben  had 
said.  "  I  'm  none  the  better  for  it." 

"  It 's  the  first  step,  my  son,  toward  repentance." 

Reuben  laughed  a  bitter  laugh,  —  a  laugh  that  made 
his  father  shudder. 

"  Sit  down  with  me  now,  Reuben,  and  read  a  chap 
ter  in  God's  "Word  ;  and  after  it  we  will  pray  for  His 
help." 

"  There  it  is  again  !  "  the  boy  had  replied.  "  I  knew 
it  would  come  to  that !  " 

"  And  do  you  refuse,  Reuben  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  I  don't,  because  I  know  it  would  n't  be  any 

VOL.  i.  13 


194  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

use;  for  if  I  did,  I  should  have  to  go  up-stairs  and 
mope  in  my  chamber,  and  have  Aunt  Eliza  staring  in 
upon  me  as  if  I  was  a  murderer.  But  I  sha'n't  know 
what  you  read  five  minutes  after." 

"  My  son,  don't  you  know  that  will  be  an  offense 
against  God  ?  " 

"  I  can't  help  it." 

"  You  can  help  it,  my  son  !  —  you  can  !  " 

And  at  this  the  Doctor,  in  an  agony  of  spirit,  (the 
boy  recalled  it  perfectly,)  had  risen  and  paced  back 
and  forth  in  his  study  ;  then,  after  a  little,  threw  him 
self  upon  his  knees  near  to  Reuben,  and  prayed  si 
lently,  with  his  hands  clasped. 

The  boy  had  melted  somewhat  at  this,  and  still  more 
when  the  father  rose  with  traces  of  a  tear  in  his  eye. 

"  Are  you  not  softened  now,  my  son  ?  " 

"  I  always  am  when  I  see  you  going  on  that  way," 
said  Reuben. 

"  My  poor  son  ! "  —  and  he  had  drawn  the  boy  to 
him,  gazing  into  the  face  from  which  the  blue  eyes  of 
the  lost  Rachel  looked  calmly  out,  moved  beyond  him 
self. 

If,  indeed,  the  lost  Rachel  had  been  really  there  be 
tween  the  two,  to  interpret  the  heart  of  the  son  to  the 
father ! 

Is  Reuben  whimpering  as  the  memory  of  this  last 
tender  episode  comes  to  his  memory  ?  What  would 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  195 

Phil  or  the  rest  of  the  Ashfielcl  fellows  say  to  a  runa 
way  boy  sniffling  under  the  edge  of  the  wood  ?  Not 
he,  by  George  !  And  he  munches  at  his  roll  of  gin 
gerbread  with  a  new  zest,  —  confirming  his  vagabond 
purpose,  that  just  now  wavered,  with  a  thought  of  those 
tedious  Saturday  nights  and  the  "  reasons  annexed," 
and  Aunt  Eliza's  sharp  elbow  nudging  him  upon  the 
hard  pew-benches,  as  she  gives  a  muffled,  warning  whis 
per,  —  "  Attend  to  the  sermon,  Eeuben  ! " 

And  so,  with  glorious  visions  of  Sindbad  the  Sailor 
in  his  mind,  and  a  cheery  remembrance  of  Crusoe 
when  he  cut  himself  adrift  from  home  and  family  for 
his  wonderful  adventures,  Reuben  pushes  gallantly  on 
through  the  woods  in  the  direction  of  the  river.  He 
knows  that  somewhere,  up  or  down,  a  sloop  will  be 
found  bound  for  New  York.  From  the  heights  around 
Ashfield,  he  has  seen,  time  and  again,  their  white  sails 
specking  some  distant  field  of  blue.  Once,  too,  upon  a 
drive  with  the  Doctor,  he  had  seen  these  marvelous 
vessels  from  a  nearer  point,  and  had  looked  wistfully 
upon  their  white  decks  and  green  companion-ways. 

Overhead  the  jays  cried  from  the  bare  chestnut- 
trees  ;  from  time  to  time  the  whirr  of  a  brood  of  par 
tridges  startled  him  ;  the  red  squirrels  chattered  ;  still 
he  pushed  on,  catching  a  chance  dinner  at  a  wayside 
farm-house,  and  by  night  had  come  within  plain  sight 
of  the  water.  The  sloop  Princess  lay  at  the  Glasten- 


196  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

bury  dock  close  by,  laden  with  wood  and  potatoes,  and 
bound  for  New  York  the  next  morning.  The  kind- 
hearted  skipper,  who  was  also  the  owner  of  the  vessel, 
took  a  sudden  fancy  to  the  sore-footed,  blue-eyed  boy 
who  came  aboard  to  bargain  for  a  passage  to  the  city. 
The  truant  was  not,  indeed,  overstocked  with  ready 
money,  but  was  willing  to  pawn  what  valuables  he  had 
about  him,  and  hinted  at  a  rich  aunt  in  the  city  who 
would  make  good  what  moneys  were  lacking.  The 
skipper  has  a  shrewd  suspicion  how  the  matter  stands, 
and,  with  a  kindly  sympathy  for  the  lad,  consents  to 
give  him  passage  on  condition  he  drops  a  line  into  the 
mail  to  tell  his  friends  which  way  he  has  gone  ;  and 
taking  a  dingy  sheet  of  paper  from  the  locker  under 
his  berth,  he  seats  Reuben  with  pen  in  hand  at  the 
cabin-table,  whereupon  the  boy  writes,  — 

"  DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  have  come  away  from  school. 
I  don't  know  as  you  will  like  it  much.  I  walked  all  the 
way  from  Bolton,  and  my  feet  are  very  sore  ;  I  don't 
think  I  could  walk  home.  Captain  Saul  says  he  will 
take  me  by  the  way  of  New  York.  I  can  go  and  see 
Aunt  Mabel.  I  will  tell  her  you  are  all  well. 

"  How  is  Adele  and  Phil  and  Rose  and  the  others  ? 
I  hope  you  won't  be  very  angry.  I  don't  think  Mr. 
Bmmmem's  is  much  of  a  school.  I  don't  learn  so  much 
there  as  I  learned  at  home.  I  don't  think  the  boys 


DOCTOR   JOHNS.  197 

there  are  good  companions.  I  think  they  are  wicked 
boys  sometimes.  Mr.  Brummem  says  they  are.  And 
he  whips  awful  hard. 

"  Yr  affect,  son, 

"  REUBEN." 

And  the  skipper,  taking  the  letter  ashore  to  post  it, 
adds  upon  the  margin,  — 

"  I  opened  the  "Within  to  see  who  the  boy  was  ;  and 
This  is  to  say,  I  shall  take  him  Aboard,  and  shall  be 
off  Chatham  Red  Quarries  to-morrow  night  and  next 
day  morning,  and,  if  you  signal  from  the  dock,  can 
send  him  Ashore.  Or,  if  this  don't  Come  in  time,  my 
berth  is  Peck  Slip,  in  York. 

"  JOHN  SAUL,  Sloop  Princess" 

Next  day  they  go  drifting  down  the  river.  A  quiet, 
smoky  October  day ;  the  distant  hills  all  softened  in 
the  haze  ;  the  near  shores  green  with  the  fresh-spring 
ing  aftermath.  Reuben  lounged  upon  the  sunny  side 
of  the  mainsail,  thinking,  with  respectful  pity,  of  the 
poor  fagged  fellows  in  roundabouts  who  were  seated  at 
that  hour  before  the  red  desks  in  Parson  Brummem's 
school-room.  At  length  he  was  enjoying  a  taste  of 
that  outside  life  of  which  he  had  known  only  from 
travelers'  books,  or  from  such  lucky  ones  as  the  ac- 


198  DOCTOR  JOHXS. 

complished  Tavern  Boody.  Henceforth  he,  too,  would 
have  his  stories  to  tell.  The  very  rustle  of  the  water 
around  the  prow  of  the  good  sloop  Princess  was  full  of 
Sindbad  echoes.  Was  it  not  remotely  possible  that  he, 
too,  like  Captain  Saul  sitting  there  on  the  taffrail  smok 
ing  his  pipe,  should  have  his  vessel  at  command  some 
day,  and  sail  away  wherever  Fortune,  with  her  iris- 
hued  streamers,  might  beckon  ?  Not  much  of  senti 
ment  in  the  boy  as  yet,  beyond  the  taste  of  freedom,  or 
—  what  is  equivalent  to  it  in  the  half-taught  —  vaga 
bondage.  As  for  Rose,  what  does  she  know  of  sloops 
and  the  world  ?  And  Adele  ?  "Well,  from  this  time 
forth  at  least,  the  boy  can  match  her  nautical  experi 
ence  with  an  experience  of  his  own.  Possibly  his  hu 
miliation  and  conscious  ignorance  at  the  French  girl's 
story  of  the  sea  were,  as  much  as  any  thing,  at  the 
bottom  of  this  wild  vagary  of  his.  For  ten  hours  the 
Captain  lies  off  Chatham  Quarries,  taking  on  additional 
freight  there  ;  but  there  is  no  signal  from  the  passenger 
dock.  The  next  morning  the  hawsers  were  cast  off, 
and  the  mainsail  run  up  again,  while  the  Princess 
surged  away  into  the  middle  of  the  current. 

"  Now,  my  boy,  we  're  in  for  a  sail !  "  said  Captain 
Saul. 

"  I  'm  glad,"  said  Reuben,  who  would  have  been 
doubly  glad,  if  he  had  known  of  his  narrow  escape  at 
the  last  landing. 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  199 

"  I  suppose  you  have  n't  much  of  a  kit  ?  "  said  the 
Captain. 

The  truth  is,  that  a  pocket-comb  was  the  extent  of 
Reuben's  equipment  for  the  voyage.  It  came  out  on 
further  talk  with  the  Captain ;  and  the  boy  was  morti 
fied  to  make  such  small  show  of  appliances. 

"  Well,  well,"  says  the  Captain,  "  we  must  keep  this 
toggery  for  the  city,  you  know  ;  "  and  he  finds  a  blue 
woolen  shirt,  —  for  the  boy  is  of  good  height  for  his 
years,  —  and  a  foremast  hand  shortens  in  a  pair  of  old 
duck  trousers  for  him,  in  which  Reuben  paces  up  and 
down  the  deck,  with  a  mortal  dread  at  first  lest  the 
boom  may  make  a  dash  against  the  wind  and  knock 
him  overboard,  in  quite  sailorly  fashion.  The  beef  is 
hard  indeed  ;  but  a  page  or  two  out  of  "  Dampier's 
Voyages,"  of  which  an  old  copy  is  in  the  cabin,  makes 
it  seem  all  right.  The  shores,  too,  are  changing  from 
hour  to  hour ;  a  brig  drifts  within  hail  of  them,  which 
Reuben  watches,  half  envying  the  fortunate  fellows  in 
red  shirts  and  tasseled  caps  aboard,  who  are  bound  to 
Cuba,  and  in  a  fortnight's  time  can  pluck  oranges  off 
the  trees  there,  to  say  nothing  of  pine-apple  and  sugar 
cane. 

Over  the  Saybrook  Bar  there  is  a  plunging  of  the 
vessel  which  horrifies  him  somewhat ;  but  smooth 
weather  follows,  with  long  lines  of  hills  half-faded  on 
the  rim  of  the  water,  and  the  country  sounds  at  last  all 


200  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

dead.  A  day  or  two  of  this,  with  only  a  mild  autum 
nal  breeze,  and  then  a  sharp  wind,  —  with  the  foam 
flying  over  forecastle  and  wood-pile,  between  the  wind 
ing  shores,  toward  Flushing  Bay,  —  brings  sight  of 
great  white  houses  with  green  turf  coming  down  to  the 
rocks,  where  the  waves  play  and  break  among  the 
drifted  sea-weed.  Captain  Saul  is  fast  at  his  helm, 
while  the  big  boom  creaks  and  crashes  from  side  to 
side  as  he  beats  up  the  narrowing  channel,  rounding 
Throg's  Point,  where  the  light-house  and  old  white 
washed  fort  stand  shining  in  the  sun,  —  skirting  low 
rocky  islands,  doubling  other  points,  dashing  at  half- 
tide  through  the  roar  and  whirl  of  Hell  Gate,  —  Reu 
ben  glowing  with  excitement,  and  mindful  of  Kick!  and 
of  his  buried  treasure  along  these  shores.  Then  came 
the  turreted  Bridewell,  and  at  last  the  spires,  the  forest 
of  masts,  with  all  that  prodigious,  crushing,  bewilder 
ing  effect  with  which  the  first  sight  of  a  great  city 
weighs  upon  the  thought  of  a  country-taught  boy. 

"  Now  mind  the  rogues,  Reuben,"  said  Captain  Saul, 
when  they  were  fairly  alongside  the  dock  ;  "  and  keep 
by  your  bunk  for  a  day  or  two,  boy.  Don't  stray  too 
far  from  the  vessel,  —  Princess,  Captain  Saul,  remem 
ber." 


XXVI. 

Doctor  is  not  a  little  shocked  by  the  note  which 
-*-  he  receives  from  Reuben,  and  which  comes  too 
late  for  the  interception  of  the  boy  upon  the  river.  He 
writes  to  Mrs.  Brindlock,  begging  the  kind  offices  of 
her  husband  in  looking  after  the  lad,  until  such  time 
as  he  can  come  down  for  his  recovery.  The  next  day, 
to  complete  his  mortification,  he  receives  the  epistle  ot 
Brother  Brummem. 

The  good  Doctor  cannot  rightly  understand,  in  his 
simplicity,  how  such  apparent  headlong  tendency  to  sin 
should  belong  to  this  child  of  prayer.  At  times  he 
thinks  he  can  trace  back  somewhat  of  the  adventurous 
spirit  of  the  poor  lad  to  the  restless  energy  of  his  father, 
the  Major;  was  it  not  possible  also  —  and  the  thought 
weighed  upon  him  grievously  —  that  he  inherited  from 
him  besides  a  waywardness  in  regard  to  spiritual  mat 
ters,  and  that  "  the  sins  of  the  fathers  "  were  thus  vis 
ited  terribly  upon  the  children  ?  The  growing  vaga 
bondage  of  the  boy  distressed  him  the  more  by  reason 
of  his  own  responsible  connection  with  the  little  daugh 
ter  of  his  French  friend.  How  should  he,  who  could 


202  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

not  guide  in  even  courses  the  child  of  his  own  loins, 
presume  to  conduct  the  little  exile  from  the  heathen 
into  paths  of  piety? 

And  yet,  strange  to  say,  the  character  of  the  blithe 
Adele,  notwithstanding  the  terrible  nature  of  her  early 
associations,  seems  to  fuse  more  readily  into  agreement 
with  the  moral  atmosphere  about  her  than  does  that  of 
the  recreant  boy.  There  may  not  be,  indeed,  perfect 
accord  ;  but  there  are  at  least  no  sharp  and  fatal  antag 
onisms  to  overcome.  If  the  lithe  spirit  of  the  girl 
bends  under  the  grave  teachings  of  the  Doctor,  it  bends 
with  a  charming  grace,  and  rises  again  smilingly,  when 
sober  speech  is  done,  like  the  floweret  she  is.  And  if 
her  mirth  is  sometimes  irrepressible  through  the  long 
hours  of  their  solemn  Sundays,  it  breaks  up  like  bub 
bles  from  the  deep  quiet  bosom  of  a  river,  cheating 
even  the  grave  parson  to  a  smile  that  seems  scarcely 
sinful. 

"  Oh,  that  sermon  was  so  long,  —  so  long  to-day, 
New  Papa !  I  am  sure  Dame  Tourtelot  pinched  the 
Deacon,  or  he  would  never,  never  have  been  awake 
through  it  all." 

Or,  may  be,  she  steals  a  foot  out  of  doors  on  a  Sun 
day  to  the  patch  of  violets,  gathering  a  little  bunch, 
and  appeals  to  the  Doctor,  who  comes  with  a  great 
frown  on  his  face, — 

"New  Papa,  is   it  most  wicked  to  carry  flowers  or 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  203 

fennel   to   church  ?      Godmother    always   gave   me   a 
flower  on  holyclays." 

And  the  Doctor  is  cheated  of  his  rebuke ;  nay,  he 
sometimes  wonders,  in  his  self-accusing  moments,  if  the 
Arch-Enemy  himself  has  not  lodged  under  cover  of 
that  smiling  face  of  hers,  and  is  thus  winning  him  to  a 
sinful  gayety.  There  are  times,  too,  when,  after  some 
playful  badinage  of  hers  which  has  touched  too  nearly 
upon  a  grave  theme,  she  interrupts  his  solemn  admoni 
tion  with  a  sudden  rush  toward  him,  and  a  tap  of  those 
little  fingers  upon  his  furrowed  cheek  :  — 

"  Don't  look  so  solemn,  New  Papa.  Nobody  will 
love  you,  if  you  look  in  that  way." 

What  if  this,  too,  be  some  temptation  of  the  Evil 
One,  withdrawing  him  from  the  grave  thought  of  eternal 
things,  diverting  him  from  the  solemn  aims  of  his  mis 
sion  ? 

There  were  snatches,  too,  of  Latin  hymns,  taught  her 
by  the  godmother,  and  only  half  remembered,  —  hymns 
of  glorious  rhythm,  which,  as  they  tripped  from  her 
halting  tongue,  brought  a  great  burden  of  sacred  mean 
ings,  and  were  full  of  the  tenderest  associations  of  her 
childhood.  To  these,  too,  the  Doctor  was  half  pained 
to  find  himself  listening,  sometimes  at  nightfall  of  a 
Sunday,  with  an  indulgent  ear,  and  stoutly  querying 
with  himself  if  Satan  could  fairly  lurk  in  such  holy 
words  as 

"  Dulcis  memoria  lesu." 


204  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

Adele,  as  we  have  said,  had  accepted  the  duties  of 
attendance  upon  the  somewhat  long  sermons  of  the 
Doctor  and  of  weekly  instructions  in  the  Catechism, 
with  a  willing  spirit,  and  had  gone  through  them  cheer 
fully,  —  not,  perhaps,  with  the  grave  air  of  devotion 
which  by  education  and  inheritance  belonged  to  the 
sweet  face  of  her  companion,  Rose.  Nay,  she  had 
sometimes  rallied  Rose  upon  the  exaggerated  serious 
ness  which  fastened  upon  her  face  whenever  the  Bible 
tasks  came  up.  But  Adele,  with  that  strong  leaning 
which  exists  in  every  womanly  nature  toward  religious 
faith  of  some  kind,  had  grown  into  a  respect  for  even 
the  weightiest  of  the  Christian  gravities  around  her ; 
not  that  they  became  the  sources  of  a  new  trust,  but, 
through  a  sympathy  that  a  heart  like  hers  could  not 
resist,  they  rallied  an  old  childish  one  into  fresh  action. 
The  strange,  serious  worship  of  those  about  her  was 
only  a  new  guise  —  so  at  least  it  seemed  to  her  sim 
plicity  —  in  which  to  approach  the  same  good  God 
whom  the  godmother  with  herself  had  praised  with 
chants  that  rang  once  under  the  dim  arches  of  the  old 
chapel,  smoky  with  incense  and  glowing  with  pictures 
of  saints,  at  Marseilles.  And  if  sometimes,  as  the 
shrill  treble  of  Miss  Almira  smote  upon  her  ear,  she 
craved  a  better  music,  and  remembered  the  fragrant 
cloud  rising  from  the  silver  censers  as  something  more 
grateful  than  the  smoke  leaking  from  the  joints  of  the 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  205 

stove-pipe  in  Ashfield  meeting-house,  and  would  have 
willingly  given  up  Miss  Eliza's  stately  praises  of  her 
recitation  for  one  good  hug  of  the  godmother.  —  she 
yet  saw,  or  thought  she  saw,  the  same  serene  trust  that 
belonged  to  her  in  the  eyes  of  good  Mistress  Onthank, 
in  the  kind  face  of  Mrs.  Elderkin,  and  in  the  calm  look 
of  the  Doctor  when  he  lifted  his  voice  every  night  at 
the  parsonage  in  prayer  for  "  all  God's  people." 

Would  it  be  strange,  too,  if  in  the  heart  of  a  girl 
taught  as  she  had  been,  who  had  never  known  a 
mother's  tenderness,  there  should  be  so-ne  hidden 
leaning  toward  those  traditions  of  the  Romish  faith 
in  which  a  holy  mother  appeared  as  one  whose  favor 
was  to  be  supplicated  ?  The  worship  of  the  Virgin 
was,  indeed,  too  salient  an  object  of  attack  among 
the  heresies  which  the  New  England  teachers  com 
bated,  not  to  inspire  a  salutary  caution  in  Adele  and 
entire  concealment  of  any  respect  she  might  still  feel 
for  the  Holy  Mary.  Nor  was  it  so  much  a  respect 
that  shaped  itself  tangibly  among  her  religious  be 
liefs  as  a  secret  craving  for  that  outpouring  of  mater 
nal  love  denied  her  on  earth,  —  a  craving  which  found 
a  certain  repose  and  tender  alleviation  in  entertain 
ing  fond  regard  for  the  sainted  mother  of  Christ. 

When,  therefore,  on  one  occasion,  Miss  Eliza  had 
found  among  the  toilet  treasures  of  Adele  a  little 
lithographic  print  of  the  Virgin,  with  the  Christ's 


206  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

head  surrounded  by  a  nimbus  of  glory,  and  in  her 
chilling  way  had  sneered  at  it  as  a  heathen  vanity, 
the  poor  child  had  burst  into  tears,  and  carried  the 
treasure  to  her  bosom  to  guard  it  from  sacrilegious 
touch. 

The  spinster,  rendered  watchful,  perhaps,  by  this 
circumstance,  had  on  another  day  been  still  more 
shocked  to  find  in  a  corner  of  the  escritoire  of  Aclele 
a  rosary,  and  with  a  very  grave  face  had  borne  it  down 
for  the  condemnation  of  the  Doctor. 

"  Adaly,  my  child,  I  trust  you  do  not  let  this  bau 
ble  bear  any  part  in  your  devotions  ?  " 

And  the  Doctor  made  a  movement  as  if  he  would 
have  thrown  it  out  of  the  window. 

"No,  New  Papa!"  said  Adele,  darting  toward  him, 
and  snatching  it  from  his  hand,  with  a  fire  in  her  eye 
he  had  never  seen  there  before,  —  a  welling-up  for 
a  moment  of  the  hot  Proven9al  blood  in  her  veins ; 
"  de  grace  !  je  vous  en  prie  !  "  (in  ecstatic  moments 
her  tongue  ran  to  her  own  land  and  took  up  the  echo 
of  her  first  speech,)  —  then  growing  calm,  as  she  held 
it,  and  looked  into  the  pitying,  wondering  eyes  of  the 
poor  Doctor,  said  only,  "  It  was  my  mother's." 

Of  course  the  kind  old  gentleman  never  sought  to 
reclaim  such  a  treasure,  but  in  his  evening  prayer 
besought  God  fervently  "  to  overrule  all  things,  our 
joys,  our  sorrows,  our  vain  affections,  our  delight  in 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  207 

the  vanities  of  this  world,  our  misplaced  longings,  — 
to  overrule  all  to  His  glory  and  the  good  of  those  that 
love  Him." 

The  Doctor  writes  to  his  friend  Maverick  at  about 
this  date,  — 

"  Your  daughter  is  still  in  the  enjoyment  of  ex 
cellent  health,  and  is  progressing  with  praiseworthy 
zeal  in  her  studies.  I  cannot  too  highly  commend 
her  general  deportment,  by  which  she  has  secured 
the  affection  and  esteem  of  all  in  the  parish  who  have 
formed  an  acquaintance  with  her.  In  respect  of  her 
religious  duties,  she  is  cheerful  and  punctual  in  the 
performance  of  them  ;  and  I  find  it  hard  to  believe 
that  they  should  prove  only  a  '  savor  of  death  unto 
death.'  She  listens  to  my  discourse,  on  most  occa 
sions,  with  a  commendable  patience,  and  seems  kindly 
disposed  toward  my  efforts.  Still  I  could  wish  much 
to  see  in  her  a  little  more  burdensome  sense  of  sin 
and  of  the  enormity  of  her  transgressions.  We  hope 
that  she  may  yet  be  brought  to  a  realizing  sense  of 
her  true  condition. 

"  She  is  fast  becoming  a  tall  and  graceful  girl,  and 
it  may  soon  be  advisable  to  warn  her  against  the  van 
ities  that  overtake  those  of  her  age  who  are  still  en 
grossed  with  carnal  things.  This  advice  would  come 
with  a  good  grace,  perhaps,  from  the  father. 

"  A  little  rosary  found  among  her  effects  has  been 


208  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

the  occasion  of  some  anxieties  to  my  sister  and  my 
self,  lest  she  might  still  have  a  leaning  toward  the 
mockeries  of  the  Scarlet  Woman  of  Babylon ;  and  I 
was  at  first  disposed  to  remove  it  out  of  her  way. 
But  being  advised  that  it  is  cherished  as  a  gift  of  her 
mother,  I  have  thought  it  not  well  to  take  from  her 
the  only  memento  of  so  near  and,  I  trust,  dear  a  rela 
tive. 

"  May  God  have  you,  my  friend,  in  His  holy  keep 
ing!" 


XXVJL 

EUBEN,  taking  the  advice  of  Captain  Saul,  with 
whom  he  would  cheerfully  have  gone  to  China, 
had  the  sloop  been  bound  thither,  came  back  to  his 
bunk  on  the  first  night  after  a  wandering  stroll  through 
the  lower  part  of  the  city.  It  is  quite  possible  that 
he  would  have  done  the  same,  viewing  the  narrow 
ness  of  his  purse,  upon  the  second  night,  had  he  not 
encountered  at  noon  a  gentleman  in  close  conversa 
tion  with  the  Captain,  whom  he  immediately  recog 
nized  —  though  he  had  seen  him  but  once  before  — 
as  Mr.  Brindlock.  This  person  met  him  very  kindly, 
and  with  a  hearty  shake  of  the  hand,  "  hoped  he  would 
do  his  Aunt  Mabel  the  honor  of  coming  to  stay  with 
them." 

There  was  an  air  of  irony  in  this  speech  which 
Reuben  was  quick  to  perceive  ;  and  the  knowing  look 
of  Captain  Saul  at  once  informed  him  that  all  the 
romance  of  his  runaway  voyage  was  at  an  end.  Both 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brindlock  received  him  at  their  home 
with  the  utmost  kindness,  and  were  vastly  entertained 
by  his  story  of  the  dismal  life  upon  Bolton  Hill,  the 

VOL.   I.  14 


210  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

pursuit  of  the  parson  with  his  white-faced  nag,  and 
the  subsequent  cruise  in  the  sloop  Princess.  Mrs. 
Brindlock,  a  good-natured,  self-indulgent  woman,  was 
greatly  taken  with  the  unaffected  country  naturalness 
of  the  lad,  and  was  agreeably  surprised  at  his  very 
presentable  appearance :  for  Reuben  at  this  date  — 
he  may  have  been  thirteen  or  fourteen  —  was  of  good 
height  for  his  years,  with  a  profusion  of  light,  wavy 
hair,  a  thoughtful,  blue  eye,  and  a  lurking  humor 
about  the  lip  which  told  of  a  great  faculty  for  mis 
chief.  There  was  such  an  absence,  moreover,  in  this 
city  home,  of  that  stiffness  with  which  his  Aunt  Eliza 
had  such  a  marvelous  capacity  for  investing  every 
thing  about  her,  that  the  lad  found  himself  at  once 
strangely  at  his  ease.  Was  it,  perhaps,  (the  thought 
flashed  upon  him,)  because  it  was  a  godless  home  ? 
The  spinster  aunt  had  sometimes  expressed  a  fear 
of  this  sort,  whenever  stories  of  the  Brindlock  wealth 
had  reached  them.  Howbeit,  he  was  on  most  familiar 
footing  with  both  master  and  mistress  before  two  days 
had  gone  by. 

"  Aunt  Mabel,"  he  had  said,  "  I  suppose  you  '11  be 
writing  to  the  old  gentleman,  and  do  please  take  my 
part.  I  can't  go  back  to  that  abominable  B rum  mem ; 
if  I  do,  I  shall  only  run  away  again,  and  go  farther  : 
do  tell  him  so." 

"  But  why  could  n't  you  have  stayed  at  home,  pray  ? 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  211 

Did  you  quarrel  with  the  little  French  girl  ?  eh,  Reu 
ben  ?  " 

The  boy  flushed. 

"  Not  with  Adele,  —  never !  " 

Brindlock,  a  shrewd,  successful  merchant,  was,  on 
his  part,  charmed  with  the  adventurous  spirit  of  the 
boy,  and  with  the  Captain's  report  of  the  way  in  which 
the  truant  had  conducted  negotiations  for  the  trip. 
From  all  which  it  came  about,  that  Mrs.  Brindlock, 
in  writing  to  the  Doctor  to  inform  him  of  Reuben's 
safe  arrival,  added  an  urgent  request  that  the  boy 
might  be  allowed  to  pass  the  winter  with  them  in 
New  York;  in  which  event  he  could  either  attend 
school,  (there  being  an  excellent  one  in  her  neighbor 
hood,)  or,  if  the  Doctor  preferred,  Mr.  Brindlock 
could  give  him  some  light  employment  in  the  count 
ing-room,  and  try  his  capacity  for  business. 

At  first  thought,  this  proposition  appeared  very 
shocking  to  the  Doctor ;  but,  to  his  surprise,  Miss  Eliza 
was  strongly  disposed  to  entertain  it.  Her  ambitious 
views  for  the  family  were  flattered  by  it ;  and  she 
kindly  waived,  in  view  of  them,  her  objections  to  the 
godless  life  which  she  feared  her  poor  sister  was  lead 
ing. 

The  Doctor  was  not  fully  persuaded  by  her,  and  took 
occasion  to  consult,  as  was  his  wont  in  practical  affairs, 
his  friend  Squire  Elderkin. 


212  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

"  I  rather  like  the  plan,"  said  the  Squire,  after  some 
consideration,  —  "quite  like  it,  Doctor, —  quite  like  it. 

"  You  see,  Doctor,"  —  and  he  slipped  a  finger  into  a 
button-hole  of  the  good  parson's,  (the  only  man  in  the 
parish  who  would  have  ventured  upon  such  familiarity,) 
—  "I  think  we 've  been  a  little  strict  with  Reuben,  — 
a  little  strict.  He 's  a  fine,  frank,  straightfor'ard  lad, 
but  impulsive,  —  impulsive,  Doctor.  Your  father,  the 
Major,  had  a  little  of  it,  —  quicker  blood  than  you  or  I, 
Doctor.  We  can't  wind  up  every  boy  like  a  clock ; 
there's  some  that  go  with  weights,  and  there's  some 
that  go  with  springs.  Then,  too,  I  think,  Doctor, 
there 's  a  little  of  the  old  Major's  fight  in  the  boy.  I 
think  he  has  broken  over  a  good  many  of  our  rules 
very  much  because  the  rules  were  there,  and  provoked 
him  to  try  his  strength. 

"  Now,  Doctor,  there  's  been  a  good  deal  of  this  kind 
of  thing,  and  our  Aunt  Eliza  puts  her  foot  clown  rather 
strongly,  which  won't  be  a  bugbear  to  the  boy  with 
Mrs.  Brindlock  ;  besides  which,  there  's  your  old  friend, 
Rev.  Dr.  Mowry,  at  the  Fulton-Street  Church  close 
by"- 

"  So  he  is,  so  he  is,"  said  the  Doctor ;  "  I  had  for 
gotten  that." 

"  And  then,  to  tell  the  truth,  Doctor,  between  you 
and  I,"  (and  the  Squire  was  working  himself  into  some 
earnestness,)  "  I  don't  believe  that  all  the  wickedness 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  213 

in  the  world  is  cooped  up  in  the  cities.  In  my  opinion, 
the  small  towns  have  a  pretty  fair  sprinkling,  —  a 
pretty  fair  sprinkling,  Doctor ;  and  if  it 's  contagious, 
as  I  've  heerd,  I  think  I  know  of  some  places  in  coun 
try  parishes  that  might  be  called  infectious.  And  I  tell 
you  what  it  is,  Doctor,  the  Devil "  (and  he  twitched 
upon  the  Doctor's  coat  as  if  he  were  in  a  political  ar 
gument)  "  does  n't  confine  himself  to  large  towns.  He 
goes  into  the  rural  deestricts,  in  my  opinion,  about  as 
regularly  as  the  newspapers  ;  and  he  holds  his  ground 
a  confounded  sight  longer." 

How  much  these  views  may  have  weighed  with  the 
Doctor  it  would  be  impossible  to  say.  If  they  did  not 
influence  directly,  they  were  certainly  suggestive  of 
considerations  which  did  have  their  weight.  The  re 
sult  was,  that  permission  was  given  for  the  stay  of 
Reuben,  on  condition  that  Mr.  Erindlock  could  give 
him  constant  occupation,  and  that  he  should  be  regular 
in  his  attendance  on  the  Sabbath  at  the  Fulton-Street 
Church.  Shortly  after,  the  Doctor  goes  to  the  city, 
provided,  by  the  watchful  care  of  Miss  Eliza,  with  a 
complete  wardrobe  for  the  truant  boy,  and  bearing 
kind  messages  from  the  household.  But  chiefly  it  is 
the  Doctor's  object  to  give  his  poor  boy  due  admonition 
for  his  great  breach  of  duty,  and  to  insist  upon  his 
writing  to  the  worthy  Mr.  Brummem  a  full  apology 
for  his  conduct.  He  also  engages  his  friend  of  the 


214  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

Fulton-Street  parish  to  have  an  eye  upon  his  son,  and 
to  report  to  him  at  once  any  wide  departure  from  the 
good  conduct  he  promises. 

Reuben  writes  the  apology  insisted  upon  to  Mr. 
Brummem  in  this  style  :  — 

"  MY  DEAR  Siu,  —  I  am  sorry  that  I  threw  '  Daboll ' 
in  your  face  as  I  did,  and  hope  you  will  forgive  the 
same. 

"  Yours  respectfully." 

But  after  the  Doctor's  approval  of  this,  the  lad  can 
not  help  adding  a  postscript  of  his  own  to  this  effect :  — 

"  P.  S.  I  hope  old  Whiteface  did  n't  lose  a  shoe 
when  you  drove  out  on  the  river  road  ?  I  saw  you  ; 
for  I  was  sitting  in  the  edge  of  the  woods,  eating 
Keziah's  gingerbread.  Please  thank  her,  and  give  my 
respects  to  all  the  fellows." 

Miss  Johns  considers  it  her  duty  to  write  a  line  of 
expostulation  to  her  nephew,  which  she  does,  with 
faultless  penmanship,  in  this  strain  :  — 

"  We  were  shocked  to  hear  of  your  misconduct 
toward  the  worthy  Mr.  Brummem.  I  could  hardly 
believe  it  possible  that  Master  Reuben  Johns  had  been 
guilty  of  such  an  indiscretion.  Your  running  away 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  215 

was,  I  think,  uncalled  for,  and  the  embarkment  upon 
the  sloop,  under  the  circumstances,  was  certainly  very 
reprehensible.  I  trust  that  we  shall  hear  only  good 
accounts  of  you  from  this  period  forth,  and  that  you 
will  be  duly  grateful  for  your  father's  distinguished 
kindness  in  allowing  you  to  stay  in  New  York.  I  shall 
be  happy  to  have  you  write  to  me  an  occasional  epistle, 
and  hope  to  see  manifest  a  considerable  improvement 
in  your  handwriting.  Does  Sister  Mabel  wear  her 
ermine  cape  this  winter  ?  I  trust  we  shall  hear  of 
your  constant  attendance  at  the  Fulton-Street  Church, 
and  hear  only  commendation  of  you  in  whatever 
duties  you  may  be  called  to  engage.  Adele  speaks  of 
you  often,  and  I  think  misses  you  very  much  indeed." 

Yet  the  spinster  aunt  was  not  used  to  flatter  Reuben 
with  any  such  mention  as  this.  "  What  can  she  mean," 
said  he,  musingly,  "  by  talking  such  stuff  to  me  ?  " 

Phil  Elderkin,  too,  after  a  little,  writes  long  letters 
that  are  full  of  the  daily  boy-life  at  Ashfield :  —  how 
"  the  chestnutting  has  been  first-rate  this  year,"  and 
he  has  a  bushel  of  prime  ones  seasoning  in  the  garret ; 
—  how  Sam  Troop,  the  stout  son  of  the  old  postmas 
ter,  has  had  a  regular  tussle  with  the  master  in  school, 
"  hot  and  heavy,  over  the  benches,  and  all  about,  and 
Sam  was  expelled,  and  old  Crocker  got  a  black  eye, 
and,  darn  him,  he  's  got  it  yet  "  ;  —  and  how  "  somebody 
(name  unknown)  tied  a  smallish  tin  kettle  to  old  Hob- 


216  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

son's  sorrel  mare's  tail  last  Saturday  night,  and  the 
way  she  went  down  the  street  was  a  caution  !  "  —  and 
how  Nat  Boody  has  got  a  new  fighting-dog,  and  such  a 
ratter !  —  and  how  Suke,  "  the  divine  Suke,  is,  they 
say,  going  to  marry  the  stage-driver.  Sic  trasit  gloria 

mulie something,  —  for  I  '11  be  hanged,  if  I  know 

the  proper  case." 

And  there  are  some  things  this  boisterous  Phil 
writes  in  tenderer  mood  :  —  how  "  Rose  and  Adele  are 
as  thick  as  ever,  and  Adele  comes  up  pretty  often  to 
pass  an  evening,  —  glad  enough,  I  guess,  to  get  away 
from  Aunt  Eliza,  —  and  I  see  her  home,  of  course. 
She  plays  a  stiff  game  of  backgammon  ;  she  never 
throws  but  she  makes  a  point ;  she  beats  me." 

And  from  such  letters  the  joyous  shouts  and  merry 
halloos  of  the  Ashfield  boys  come  back  to  him  again; 
he  hears  the  rustling  of  the  brook,  the  rumbling  of 
the  mill ;  he  sees  the  wood  standing  on  the  hills,  and 
the  girls  at  the  door-yard  gates  ;  the  hum  of  voices  in 
the  old  academy  catches  his  ear,  and  the  drowsy  song 
of  the  locusts  coming  in  at  the  open  windows  all  the 
long  afternoons  of  August ;  and  he  watches  again  the 
glancing  feet  of  Rose  —  who  was  once  Amanda  — 
tripping  away  under  the  sycamores  ;  and  the  city  Mor 
timer  bethinks  him  of  another  Amanda,  of  browner 
hue  and  in  coquettish  straw,  idling  along  the  same 
street,  with  reticule  lightly  swung  upon  her  finger ; 


DOCTOR   JOHNS.  217 

and  the  boy  bethinks  him  of  tender  things  he  might 
have  said  in  the  character  of  Mortimer,  but  never  did 
say,  and  of  kisses  he  might  have  stolen,  (in  the  char 
acter  of  Mortimer,)  but  never  did  steal. 

And  now  these  sights,  voices,  vagaries,  as  month 
after  month  passes  in  his  new  home,  fade,  —  fade,  yet 
somehow  abide.  The  patter  of  a  thousand  feet  are  on 
the  pavement  around  him.  What  wonder,  if,  in  the 
surrounding  din,  the  tranquillity  of  Ashfield,  its  scenes, 
its  sounds,  should  seem  a  mere  dream  of  the  past  ? 
What  wonder,  if  the  solemn  utterances  from  the  old 
pulpit  should  be  lost  in  the  roar  of  the  new  voices  ? 
The  few  months  he  was  to  spend  in  their  hearing  run 
into  a  score,  and  again  into  another  score.  Two  or 
three  years  hence  we  shall  meet  him  again,  —  changed, 
certainly ;  but  whether  for  better  or  for  worse  the  se 
quel  will  show. 

And  Rose  ?  —  and  Adele  ? 

Well,  well,  we  must  not  overleap  the  quiet  current 
of  our  story.  While  the  May  violets  are  in  bloom,  let 
us  enjoy  them  and  be  thankful ;  and  Avhen  the  autumn 
flowers  are  come  to  take  their  places,  let  us  enjoy  those, 
too,  and  thank  God. 


XXVIII. 

T~\OCTOR,  we  miss  Reuby,"  said  the  Tew  partners. 
-*-^  And  the  good  old  people  said  it  with  feeling,  — 
though,  over  and  over,  at  winter's  dusk,  the  boy  had 
given  a  sharp  rattle  to  their  shop-door,  and  the  warn 
ing  bell  called  them  away  from  their  snug  fire  only  to 
see  his  light  pair  of  heels  whisking  around  the  corner 
of  the  Eagle  Tavern.  The  mischief  in  the  lad  was, 
indeed,  of  such  elastic,  irrepressible  temper,  that  even 
the  gravest  of  the  parishioners  were  disposed  to  regard 
it  with  a  frown  in  which  a  comic  pardon  was  always 
lurking. 

Even  the  Tourtelots  "  quite  missed  the  boy ; " 
though  over  and  over  the  brindled  cow  of  the  Deacon 
was  found  to  have  slipped  the  bars,  (a  thing  the  or 
derly  creature  was  never  known  to  do  of  her  own 
head,)  and  was  reported  at  twilight  by  the  sober-faced 
Reuben  as  strolling  far  down  upon  the  Common. 

It  is  but  a  small  bit  of  canvas  we  have  chosen  for 
the  painting  in  of  these  figures  of  ours ;  and  returning 
to  the  old  town  of  Ashfield,  as  we  do  now,  where  the 
central  interest  must  lie,  there  is  little  of  change  to  de- 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  219 

clare,  still  less  of  dramatic  incident.  A  serene  quie 
tude,  year  after  year,  is  the  characteristic  of  most  of 
the  interior  New  England  towns.  The  elections  come 
and  go  with  their  fury  of  previous  declamation.  The 
Squire  presides  over  the  deliberations  of  his  party,  and 
some  leading  Adams  man  presides  over  the  delibera 
tions  of  the  other  ;  even  the  boys  are  all  Jackson  men 
or  Adams  men  ;  but  when  the  result  is  declared,  there 
is  an  acquiescence  on  all  hands  that  is  beautiful  to  be 
hold  ;  and  in  process  of  time,  Mr.  Troop,  the  postmas 
ter,  yields  up  the  mail  pouches  and  locks  and  canvas 
bags  to  some  active  little  Jackson  partisan  with  the  ut 
most  suavity,  and  smokes  off  his  discontent  upon  the 
porch  of  the  Eagle  Tavern,  under  the  very  shadow  of 
the  tall  hickory  pole,  which  for  one  third  of  its  height 
is  protected  by  old  wagon-tire  heavily  spiked  on, 
against  the  axes  of  zealous  political  opponents. 

The  old  blear-eyed  Boody  is  not  so  cheery  as  we 
have  seen  him,  although  his  party  has  won  brilliant 
success.  There  is  a  sad  story  of  domestic  grief  that 
has  marked  a  new  wrinkle  in  his  forehead  and  given  a 
droop  to  his  eye,  which,  had  all  gone  fairly,  he  might 
have  weathered  for  ten  years  more.  The  glory  of  the 
ringleted  Suke  has  indeed  gone,  as  Phil  had  told  ;  but 
it  has  not  gone  in  the  way  of  marriage.  God  only 
knows  where  those  pink  cheeks  are  showing  their 
graces  now,  —  not,  surely,  in  any  home  of  hers,  —  not 


220  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

in  any  home  at  all.  God  only  knows  what  repinings 
have  come,  all  too  late,  over  the  glitter  and  the  tri 
umph  of  an  hour.  The  elderly,  grave  ones  shake 
their  heads  dismally  over  this  fall,  and  talk  of  the  ter 
ribly  demoralizing  associations  amidst  which  the  poor 
child  has  lived ;  but  do  they  ask  themselves  if  they  did 
their  best  to  mend  them  ?  Decoyed  toward  evil  fast 
and  frequently  enough,  without  doubt ;  but  were  there 
any  decoys,  such  as  kind  hands  and  welcoming  words, 
in  the  other  direction  ?  The  meeting-house  doors  have, 
indeed,  been  always  open,  for  the  just  and  for  the  un 
just.  But  have  not  the  starched,  good  women  of  the 
parish  been  a  little  disposed  to  count  the  pretty  tavern- 
keeper's  daughter  as  outside  the  fold  —  so  far  as  all 
social  influences  were  concerned  —  from  the  begin 
ning  ?  That  exuberant  life  in  her  which  led  to  the 
dance  at  a  tavern  ball,  was  there  any  palliative  for  it,  — 
any  hope  for  it,  except  to  go  on  in  the  way  of  destruc 
tion  ? 

But  we  would  not  judge  unjustly.  Certain  it  is,  that 
Miss  Johns  indulged  in  such  scathing  condemnation  of 
the  poor  sinner  as  made  Aclele  shiver :  with  the  spin 
ster  at  least,  there  would  be  little  hope  for  a  Magdalen, 
or  a  child  of  a  Magdalen.  Xor  could  such  as  she  fully 
understand  the  measured  and  subdued  tone  with  which 
the  good  Doctor  talked  of  a  lapse  from  virtue  which 
had  so  shocked  the  little  community.  But  the  parson 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  221 

lived  so  closely  in  that  spiritual  world  where  all  his 
labor  and  love  centered,  that  he  saw  under  its  ineffable 
light  only  two  great  ranks  of  people  pressing  toward 
the  inevitable  goal :  a  lesser  rank,  which  had  found 
favor  of  God ;  and  a  greater,  tumultuous  one,  toward 
whom  his  heart  yearned,  that  with  wavering  and  doubt 
and  evil  intention  pressed  on  to  destruction.  What 
mattered  to  him  the  color  of  the  sin,  or  who  was  he  to 
judge  it  ?  When  the  secret  places  of  the  heart  were 
so  full  of  wickedness,  why  anathematize  above  the  rest 
those  plague-spots  which  revealed  themselves  to  mor 
tals  ?  "  Fearful  above  all  others,"  he  was  wont  to  say, 
"  will  be  those  sins  which,  being  kept  cautiously  smol 
dering  through  life,  will,  at  the  blast  of  the  Archangel's 
trump,  blaze  out  in  inextinguishable  fire  !  " 

The  Doctor  kept  himself  and  his  pulpit  mostly  free 
of  that  theological  fermentation  which  in  those  years 
was  going  on  throughout  New  England,  —  at  least  of 
all  such  forms  of  it  as  marked  a  division  in  the  ortho 
dox  churches.  If  he  had  a  leaning,  it  was  certainly  in 
favor  of  the  utmost  severity  of  Calvinism.  He  dis 
trusted  human  philosophy,  and  would  rather  have  ac 
cepted  the  theory  of  natural  inability  in  all  its  harshness 
than  see  it  explained  away  by  any  metaphysic  subtilties 
that  should  seem  to  veil  or  place  in  doubt  the  para 
mount  efficiency  of  the  Spirit. 

But  though  slow  to  accept  theological  reforms,  the 


222  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

Doctor  was  not  slow  to  advocate  those  which  promised 
good  influence  upon  public  morals.  Thus  he  had  en 
tered  with  zeal  into  the  Temperance  movement ;  and 
after  1830,  or  1832  at  the  latest,  there  was  no  private 
locker  in  the  parsonage  for  any  black  bottle  of  choice 
Santa  Cruz.  His  example  had  its  bearing  upon  others 
of  the  parish  ;  and  whether  by  dint  of  the  Doctor's 
effective  preaching,  or  whether  it  were  by  reason  of  the 
dilapidated  state  of  the  buildings  and  the  leaky  condi 
tion  of  the  stills,  it  is  certain  that  about  this  time  Dea 
con  Simmons,  of  whom  casual  mention  has  been  made, 
abandoned  his  distillery,  and  invested  such  spare  capi 
tal  as  he  chose  to  keep  afloat  in  the  business  of  his  son- 
in-law,  Mr.  Bowrigg  of  New  York,  who  had  up  to  this 
time  sold  the  Deacon's  gin  upon  commission. 

Mr.  Bowrigg  was  a  thriving  merchant,  and  continued 
his  wholesale  traffic  with  eminent  success.  In  proof 
of  this  success,  he  astonished  the  good  people  of  Ash- 
field  by  building,  in  the  summer  of  1833,  at  the  insti 
gation  of  his  wife,  an  elegant  country  residence  upon 
the  main  street  of  the  town ;  and  the  following  year, 
the  little  Bowriggs  —  two  daughters  of  blooming  girl 
age  —  brought  such  a  flutter  of  city  ribbons  and  silks 
into  the  main  aisle  of  the  meeting-house  as  had  not 
been  seen  in  many  a  day.  Anne  and  Sophia  Bowrigg, 
aged  respectively  thirteen  and  fifteen,  fell  naturally  into 
somewhat  intimate  associations  with  our  little  friends, 


DOCTOR   JOHNS.  223 

Adele  and  Rose :  an  association  that  was  not  much  to 
the  taste  of  the  Doctor,  who  feared  that  under  it  Adele 
might  launch  again  into  those  old  coquetries  of  dress 
against  which  Maverick  had  cautioned  him,  and  which 
in  their  quiet  country  atmosphere  had  been  subdued 
into  a  modest  homeliness  that  was  certainly  very  charm 
ing. 

Miss  Sophia,  however,  the  elder  of  the  two  Bowrigg 
daughters,  was  a  young  lady  not  easily  balked  of  her 
intent ;  and  conceiving  a  violent  fondness  for  Adele, 
whether  by  reason  of  the  graces  of  her  character,  or  by 
reason  of  her  foreign  speech,  in  which  she  could  stam- 
meringly  join,  to  the  great  mystification  of  all  others, 
she  soon  forced  herself  into  a  patronizing  intimacy  with 
Adele,  and  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  the  parsonage. 
With  a  great  fund  of  assurance,  a  rare  and  unappeasa 
ble  glibness  of  tongue,  and  that  lack  of  refined  delicacy 
which  invariably  belongs  to  such  noisy  demonstrative- 
ness,  Miss  Sophia  had  after  only  one  or  two  interviews 
ferreted  out  from  Adele  all  that  the  little  stranger  her 
self  knew  respecting  her  history. 

"  And  not  to  know  your  mother,  Adele  !  that 's  so 
very  queer !  " 

Adele  winces  at  this,  but  seems  —  to  so  coarse  an 
observer  —  only  preoccupied  with  her  work. 

"Is  n't  it  queer?"  persists  the  garrulous  creature. 
"  I  knew  a  girl  in  the  city  who  did  not  see  her  mother 


224  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

after  she  was  three,  —  think  of  that !  But  then,  you 
know,  she  was  a  bad  woman." 

The  hot  Provenfal  blood  mounts  to  the  cheek  and 
brow  of  Adele  in  an  instant,  and  her  eye  flashes.  But 
it  is  quite  impossible  to  show  anger  in  view  of  the 
stolid  face  of  her  companion,  with  nothing  in  it  but  an 
unthinking,  girlish  curiosity. 

"  We  will  talk  of  something  else,  Sophia." 

"  Oh  !  then  you  don't  like  to  speak  of  it !  Dear  me  ! 
I  certainly  won't,  then." 

Yet  this  rattle-brained  girl  has  no  real  ill-nature  ; 
and  it  is  surprising  what  a  number  of  such  well-mean 
ing  people  go  blundering  about  society,  inflicting  cheer 
ful  wounds  in  all  directions  by  mere  reason  of  their 
bluntness  and  lack  of  all  delicacy  of  feeling. 

But  it  is  by  no  means  the  first  time  the  sensibilities 
of  Adele  have  been  touched  to  the  quick.  She  is  ap 
proaching  that  age  when  they  ripen  with  marvelous 
rapidity.  There  is  never  an  evening  now  at  that  cheer 
ful  home  of  the  Elderkins  —  lighted  up  as  it  is  with 
the  beaming  smiles  of  that  Christian  mother,  Mrs. 
Elderkin  —  but  there  sweeps  over  the  mind  of  the  poor 
girl,  at  some  interval  in  the  games  or  the  chat,  a  terri 
ble  sense  of  some  great  loss  she  has  suffered,  of  which 
she  knows  not  the  limits,  —  a  cruel  sense  of  isolation 
in  which  she  wanders,  and  on  which  conies  betimes  the 
recollection  of  a  father's  kindly  face,  that  in  the  grow- 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  225 

ing  distance  makes  her  isolation  seem  even  more  ap 
palling. 

Rose,  good  soul,  detects  these  humors  by  a  keen, 
girlish  instinct,  and,  gliding  up  to  her,  passes  her  arm 
around  her,  — 

"  What  is  it  now,  Adele,  dear  ?  " 

And  she,  looking  down  at  her,  (for  Adele  was  the 
taller  by  half  a  head,)  says.  — 

"  What  a  good  mother  you  have,  Rose  ! " 

"Only  that!"  —  and  Rose  laughs  gleefully  for  a 
moment,  when,  bethinking  herself  where  the  secret 
grief  lay,  her  sweet  face  is  overcast  in  an  instant,  and 
reaching  up  her  two  hands,  she  draws  down  the  face 
of  Adele  to  hers,  and  kisses  her  on  either  cheek. 

Phil,  who  is  at  a  game  of  chess  with  Grace,  pretends 
not  to  see  this  side  demonstration  ;  but  his  next  move 
is  to  sacrifice  his  only  remaining  castle  in  the  most 
needless  manner. 

Dame  Tourtelot,  too,  has  pressed  her  womanly  pre 
rogative  of  knowing  whatever  could  be  known  about 
the  French  girl  who  comes  occasionally  with  Miss  Eliza 
to  her  tea-drinkings,  and  who,  with  a  native  taste  for 
music,  is  specially  interested  in  the  piano  of  Miss 
Almira. 

"  It  must  be  very  tedious,"  says  the  Dame,  "  to  be  so 
long  away  from  home  and  from  those  that  love  you. 
Almiry,  now,  hardly  goes  for  a  week  to  Cousin  Jerushy's 

VOL.    I.  15 


226  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

at  Har'ford  but  she  is  a-frettin'  to  be  back  in  her  old 
home.  Don't  you  feel  it,  Acleel  ?  "  (The  Dame  is  not 
to  be  driven  out  of  her  own  notions  of  pronunciation 
by  any  French  accents.)  "  But  don't  be  downhearted, 
my  child  ;  it 's  God's  providence  that 's  brought  you 
away  from  a  Popish  country." 

And  she  pushes  her  inquiries  regarding  the  previous 
life  of  Adele  with  an  earnestness  and  an  authoritative 
air  which  at  times  do  not  fail  to  provoke  a  passionate 
retort.  To  this  the  old  lady  is  wholly  unused  ;  and  con 
demning  her  straightway  as  a  hot-headed  Romanist,  it 
is  to  be  feared  that  we  must  regard  the  Dame  hence 
forth  as  one  disposed  to  look  upon  the  least  favorable 
lights  which  may  appear,  whether  in  the  past  history 
of  Adele  or  in  the  developments  to  come. 

The  spinster,  also,  who  is  mistress  of  the  parsonage, 
though  never  giving  up  her  admiring  patronage  of 
Adele,  and  governing  her  curiosity  with  far  more  tact 
than  belongs  to  Dame  Tourtelot,  has  yet  shown  a  per 
sistent  zeal  in  pushing  her  investigations  in  regard  to 
all  that  concerned  the  family  history  of  her  little 
protegee.  She  has  lent  an  eager  ear  to  all  the  commu 
nications  which  Maverick  has  addressed  to  the  Doctor  ; 
and  in  moments  of  what  seemed  exceptional  fondness, 
when  she  has  toyed  with  the  head-gear  of  Adele,  has 
plied  the  little  brain  with  motherly  questions  that  have 
somehow  widely  failed  of  their  intent. 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  227 

Under  all  this,  Adele  ripens  into  a  certain  reserve  and 
individuality  of  character  which  might  never  have  be 
longed  to  her,  had  the  earlier  circumstances  of  her  life 
been  altogether  familiar  to  the  circle  in  which  she  was 
placed.  The  Doctor  fastens,  perhaps,  an  undue  reli 
ance  upon  this  growing  reserve  of  hers  :  sure  it  is  that 
an  increasing  confidence  is  establishing  itself  between 
them,  which  it  is  to  be  hoped  nothing  will  shake. 

And  as  for  Phil,  when  the  Squire  teases  him  with 
his  growing  fondness  for  the  little  Jesuit  of  the  parson 
age,  the  boy,  though  past  seventeen  now,  and  "  with 
views  of  his  own,"  (as  most  young  men  have  at  that 
age,)  blushes  like  a  girl. 

Rose,  seeing  it,  and  her  eyes  flashing  with  sisterly 
pride,  says  to  herself,  — 

"  Oh,  I  hope  it  may  come  true  !  " 


XXIX. 

TjlROM  time  to  time  Maverick  had  written  in  reply 
-*-  to  the  periodical  reports  of  the  Doctor,  and  always 
with  unabating  confidence  in  his  discretion  and  kind 
ness. 

"I  have  remarked  what  you  say"  (he  had  written 
thus  in  a  letter  which  had  elicited  the  close  attention 
of  Miss  Eliza)  "  in  regard  to  the  rosary  found  among 
the  girlish  treasures  of  Adele.  I  am  not  aware  how 
she  can  have  come  by  such  a  trinket  from  the  source 
named ;  but  I  must  beg  you  to  take  as  little  notice  as 
possible  of  the  matter,  and  please  allow  her  possession 
of  it  to  remain  entirely  unmarked.  I  am  specially 
anxious  that  no  factitious  importance  be  given  to  the 
relic  by  opposition  to  her  wishes." 

Heavy  losses  incident  to  the  political  changes  of  the 
year  1831  in  France  had  kept  him  fastened  at  his 
post ;  and  with  the  reviving  trade  under  the  peaceful 
regime  of  Louis  Philippe,  he  had  been  more  actively 
engaged  even  than  before.  Yet  there  was  no  interrup 
tion  to  his  correspondence  with  Adele,  and  no  falling 
off  in  its  expressions  of  earnest  affection  and  devotion. 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  229 

"I  fancy  you  almost  a  woman  grown  now,  dear 
Adele.  Those  cheeks  of  yours  have,  I  hope,  not  lost 
their  roundness  or  their  rosiness.  But,  however  much 
you  may  have  grown,  I  am  sure  that  my  heart  would 
guide  me  so  truly  that  I  could  single  you  out  from  a 
great  crowd  of  the  little  Puritan  people  about  you.  I 
can  fancy  you  in  some  simple  New  England  dress,  —  in 
which  I  would  rather  see  you,  my  child,  than  in  the 
richest  silks  of  those  about  me  here,  —  gliding  up  the 
pathway  that  leads  to  the  door  of  the  old  parsonage ; 
I  can  fancy  you  dropping  a  word  of  greeting  to  the 
good  Doctor  within  his  study  (he  must  be  wearing 
spectacles  now)  ;  and  at  evening  I  seem  to  see  you 
kneeling  in  the  long  back  dining-room,  as  the  parson 
leads  in  family  prayer.  Well,  well,  don't  forget  to  pray 
for  your  old  father,  my  child.  I  shall  be  all  the  safer 
for  it,  in  what  the  Doctor  calls  '  this  wicked  land.' 
And  what  of  Reuben,  whose  mischief,  you  told  me, 
threatened  such  fearful  results  ?  Sobered  down,  I  sup 
pose,  long  before  this,  wearing  a  stout  jacket  of  home 
spun,  driving  home  the  '  keow '  at  night,  and  singing 
in  the  choir  of  a  Sunday.  Don't  lose  your  heart, 
AdMe,  with  any  of  the  youngsters  about  you.  I  claim 
the  whole  of  it ;  and  every  day  and  every  night  mine 
beats  for  you,  my  child." 

And  Adele  writes  back  :  — 

"My  heart  is  all  yours,  papa,  —  only  why  do  you 


230  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

never  come  and  take  it  ?  So  many,  many  years  that 
I  have  not  seen  you  ! 

"  Yes,  I  like  Ashfield  still ;  it  is  almost  a  home  to 
me  now,  you  know.  New  Papa  is  very  kind,  but 
just  as  grave  and  stiff  as  at  the  first.  I  know  he 
loves  me,  but  he  never  tells  me  so.  I  don't  believe 
he  ever  told  Reuben  so.  But  when  I  sing  some  song 
that  he  loves  to  hear,  I  see  a  little  quirk  by  his  tem 
ple,  and  a  glistening  in  his  eye,  as  he  thanks  me,  that 
tells  it  plain  enough ;  and  most  of  all  when  he  prays, 
as  he  sometimes  does  after  talking  to  me  very  gravely, 
with  his  arm  tight  clasped  around  me,  oh,  I  am  sure 
that  he  loves  me  !  —  and  indeed,  and  indeed,  I  love 
him  back  again ! 

"  It  was  funny  what  you  said  of  Reuben  ;  for  you 
must  know  that  he  is  living  in  the  city  now,  and  hap 
pens  upon  us  here  sometimes  with  a  very  grand  air, 

—  as  fine,  I  dare  say,  as  the  people  about  Marseilles. 
But  I  don't  think  I  like  him  any  better  ;  I  don't  know 
if  I  like  him  as  well.     Miss  Eliza  is,  of  course,  very 
proud  of  him,  as  she  always  was." 

As  the  nicer  observing  faculties  of  his  child  de 
velop,  —  of  which  ample  traces  appear  in  her  letters, 

—  Maverick  begs  her  to  detail  to  him  as  fully  as  she 
can   all   the   little   events   of  her   every-day  life.     He 
has  an  eagerness,  which  only  an  absent  parent  can  feel, 
to  know  how  his  pet  is  received  by  those  about  her ; 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  231 

and  would  supply  himself,  so  far  as  he  may,  with  a 
full  picture  of  the  scenes  amid  which  his  child  is 
growing  up.  Sheet  after  sheet  of  this  simple,  girlish 
narrative  of  hers  Maverick  delights  himself  with,  as 
he  sits  upon  his  balcony,  after  business  hours,  look 
ing  down  upon  the  harbor  of  Marseilles. 

"  After  morning  prayers,  which  are  very  early,  you 
know,  Esther  places  the  smoking  dishes  on  the  table, 
and  New  Papa  asks  a  blessing,  —  always.  Then  he 
says,  '  I  hope  Adaly  has  not  forgotten  her  text  of 
yesterday.'  And  I  repeat  it  to  him.  Such  a  quantity 
of  texts  as  I  can  repeat  now  !  Then  Aunt  Eliza  says, 
'  I  hope,  too,  that  Adele  will  make  no  mistake  in  her 
"  Paradise  Lost "  to-day.  Are  you  sure  you  've  not 
forgotten  that  lesson  in  the  parsing,  child  ?  '  Indeed, 
papa,  I  can  parse  almost  any  page  in  the  book. 

" '  I  think,'  says  New  Papa,  appealing  to  Miss  Eliza, 
'  that  Larkin  may  grease  the  wheels  of  the  chaise 
this  morning,  and,  if  it  should  be  fair,  I  will  make  a 
visit  or  two  at  the  north  end  of  the  town  ;  and  I  think 
Adaly  would  like  to  go  with  me.' 

" '  Yes,  dearly,  New  Papa,'  I  say,  —  which  is  very 
true. 

"  And  Miss  Eliza  says,  very  gravely,  '  I  am  perfectly 
willing,  Doctor.' 

"  After  breakfast  is  over,  Miss  Eliza  will  sometimes 
walk  with  ine  a  short  way  down  the  street,  and  will 


232  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

say  to  me,  '  Hold  yourself  erect,  Adele ;  walk  trimly.' 
She  walks  very  trimly.  Then  we  pass  by  the  Hap- 
good  house,  which  is  one  of  the  grand  houses ;  and 
I  know  the  old  Miss  Hapgoods  are  looking  through 
the  blinds  at  us,  though  they  never  show  themselves 
until  they  have  taken  out  their  curl-papers  in  the  after 
noon. 

"  Dame  Tourtelot  is  n't  so  shy ;  and  we  see  her 
great,  gaunt  figure  in  a  broad  sun-bonnet,  stooping 
down  with  her  trowel,  at  work  among  the  flower- 
patches  before  her  door ;  and  Miss  Almira  is  reading 
at  an  upper  window,  in  pink  muslin.  And  when  the 
Dame  hears  us,  she  lifts  herself  straight,  sets  her  old 
flapping  bonnet  as  square  as  she  can,  and  stares 
through  her  spectacles  until  she  has  made  us  out ; 
then  says, — 

" '  Good  mornin',  Miss  Johns.  You  're  'arly  this 
mornin'.' 

"  '  Quite  early,'  says  Miss  Eliza.  '  Your  flowers  are 
looking  nicely,  Mrs.  Tourtelot.' 

" '  "Well,  the  pi'nys  is  blowed  pretty  good.  Would 
n't  Adeel  like  a  pi'ny  ? ' 

"  It 's  a  great  red  monster  of  a  flower,  papa ;  but 
I  thank  her  for  it,  and  put  it  in  my  belt.  Then  the 
Dame  goes  on  to  tell  how  she  has  shifted  the  striped 
grass,  and  how  the  bouncing-Bets  are  spreading,  and 
where  she  means  to  put  her  nasturtiums  the  next 


DOCTOR   JOHNS.  233 

year,  and  brandishes  her  trowel,  as  the  brigands  in 
the  story-books  brandish  their  swords. 

"  And  Miss  Eliza  says,  '  Almira  is  at  her  reading, 
I  see.' 

"  '  Dear  me  ! '  says  the  Dame,  glancing  up  ;  '  she  's 
always  a-readin'.  What  with  novils  and  histories, 
she 's  injurin'  her  health,  Miss  Johns,  as  sure  as  you 
're  alive.' 

"  Then,  as  we  set  off  again,  —  the  Dame  calling 
out  some  last  word,  and  brandishing  her  trowel  over 
the  fence,  —  old  Squire  Elderkin  comes  swinging  up 
the  street  with  the  '  Courant '  in  his  hand  ;  and  he 
lifts  his  hat,  and  says,  '  Good  morning  to  you,  Miss 
Johns  ;  and  how  is  the  little  French  lady  this  morn 
ing?  Bright  as  ever,  I  see,'  (for  he  does  n't  wait  to 
be  answered,)  — '  a  peony  in  her  belt,  and  two  roses 
in  her  cheeks.'  Yet  my  cheeks  are  not  very  red, 
papa  ;  but  it 's  his  way 

"  After  school,  I  go  for  the  drive  with  the  Doctor, 
which  I  enjoy  very  much.  I  ask  him  about  all  the 
flowers  along  the  way,  and  he  tells  me  every  thing, 
and  I  have  learned  the  names  of  all  the  birds  ;  and 
it  is  much  better,  I  think,  than  learning  at  school. 
And  he  always  says,  '  It 's  God's  infinite  love,  my 
child,  that  has  given  us  all  these  beautiful  things,  and 
these  songsters  that  choir  His  praises.'  When  I  hear 
him  say  it,  I  believe  it,  papa.  I  am  very  sure  that 


234  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

the  priest  who  came  to  see  godmother  was  not  a  bet 
ter  man  than  he  is. 

"  Then,  very  often,  he  lifts  my  hand  in  his,  and 
says,  '  Adaly,  my  dear,  God  is  very  good  to  us,  sin 
ners  though  we  are.  We  cannot  tell  His  meaning 
always,  but  we  may  be  very  sure  that  He  has  only 
a  good  meaning.  You  do  not  know  it,  Adaly,  but 
there  was  once  a  dear  one,  whom  I  loved  perhaps  too 
well  ;  —  she  was  the  mother  of  my  poor  Reuben ; 
God  only  knows  how  I  loved  her !  But  He  took  her 
from  me.'  —  Oh,  how  the  hand  of  New  Papa  griped 
on  mine,  when  he  said  this  !  — '  He  took  her  from 
me,  my  child ;  He  has  carried  her  to  His  home.  He 
is  just.  Learn  to  love  Him,  Adaly.  The  love  we 
give  to  Him  we  can  carry  with  us  always.  He  does 
not  die  and  leave  us.  He  is  everywhere.  The  birds 
are  messengers  of  His,  when  they  sing ;  the  flowers 
you  love  come  from  His  bounty :  O  Adaly,  can  you 
not,  will  you  not,  love  Him  ? ' 

"  '  I  do !  I  do ! '  I  said. 

"  He  looked  me  full  in  the  face,  (I  shall  never  for 
get  how  he  looked,)  '  Ah,  Adaly,  is  this  a  fantasy  of 
yours,'  said  he,  '  or  is  it  true  ?  Could  you  give  up 
the  world  and  all  its  charms,  could  you  forego  the 
admiration  and  the  love  of  all  others,  if  only  He 
who  is  the  Savior  of  us  all  would  smile  upon  you  ? 

"  I  felt  I  could,  —  I  felt  I  could,  papa. 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  235 

"  But  then,  directly  after,  he  repeated  to  me  some 
of  those  dreary  things  I  had  been  used  to  hear  in 
the  Catechism  week  after  week.  I  was  so  sorry  he 
repeated  them,  for  they  seemed  to  give  a  change  to 
all  my  thought.  I  am  sure  I  was  trustful  before,  when 
he  talked  to  me  so  earnestly ;  but  when  he  repeated 
only  what  I  had  learned  over  and  over,  every  Satur 
day  night,  then  I  am  afraid  my  faith  drooped. 

" '  Don't  tell  me  that,  New  Papa,'  said  I,  '  it  is  so 
old  ;  talk  to  me  as  you  were  talking.' 

"  And  then  the  Doctor  looked  at  me  with  the  keen 
est  eyes  I  ever  saw,  and  said,  — 

" '  My  child,  are  you  right,  and  are  the  Doctors 
wrong  ? ' 

"  '  Is  it  the  Catechism  that  you  call  the  Doctors  ?  ' 
said  I. 

"  '  Yes,'  said  he. 

" '  But  were  they  better  men  than  you,  New  Papa  ?  ' 

" l  All  men  alike,  Adaly,  all  struggling  toward  the 
truth,  —  all  wearying  themselves  to  interpret  it  in  such 
way  that  the  world  may  accept  it,  and  praise  God  who 
has  given  us  His  Son  a  sacrifice,  by  whom,  and  whom 
only,  we  may  be  saved.'  And  at  this  he  took  my  hand 
and  said,  '  Adaly,  trust  Him  ! ' 

"  By  this  time "  (for  Adele's  letter  is  a  true  tran 
script  of  a  day)  "  we  have  reached  the  door  of  some 
one  of  his  people  to  whom  he  is  to  pay  a  visit.  The 


236  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

blinds  are  all  closed,  and  nothing  seems  to  be  stirring 
but  a  gray  cat  that  is  prowling  about  under  the  lilac 
bushes.  Dobbins  is  hitched  to  the  post,  and  the 
Doctor  pounds  away  at  the  big  knocker.  Presently 
two  or  three  white-headed  children  come  peeping 
around  the  bushes,  and  rush  away  to  tell  who  has 
come.  After  a  little  the  stout  mistress  opens  the  door, 
and  wipes  her  fingers  on  her  apron,  and  shakes  hands, 
and  bounces  into  the  keeping-room  to  throw  up  the 
window  and  open  the  blinds,  and  dusts  off  the  great 
rocking-chair  for  the  Doctor,  and  keeps  saying  all  the 
while  that  they  are  '  very  back'ard  with  the  spring 
work,  and  she  really  had  no  time  to  slick  up,'  and  asks 
after  Miss  Eliza  and  Reuben,  and  the  Tourtelots,  and 
all  the  people  on  the  street,  so  fast  that  I  wonder  she 
can  keep  her  breath  ;  and  the  Doctor  looks  so  calm, 
and  has  no  time  to  say  anything  yet.  Then  she  looks 
at  me,  '  Sissy  is  looking  well,'  says  she,  and  dashes  out 
to  bring  in  a  great  plate  of  gingerbread,  which  I  never 
like  at  all,  and  say,  '  No.'  But  she  says,  '  It  won't  hurt 
ye  ;  it  a'n't  p'ison,  child.'  So  I  find  I  must  eat  a  little  ; 
and  while  I  sit  mumbling  it,  the  Doctor  and  she  talk 
on  about  a  great  deal  I  don't  understand,  and  I  am 
glad  when  she  bounces  up  again,  and  says,  '  Sis  would 
like  to  get  some  posies,  p'raps,'  and  leads  me  out  of 
doors.  '  There  's  lalocs,  child,  and  flower-de-luce 
pick  what  you  want.' 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  237 

"  So  I  go  wandering  among  the  beds  along  the  gar 
den,  with  the  bees  humming  round  me ;  and  there  are 
great  tufts  of  blue-bell,  and  spider-wort,  and  moss- 
pink  ;  and  the  white-haired  grandchildren  come  and 
put  their  faces  to  the  paling,  looking  at  me  through 
the  bars  like  animals  in  a  cage  ;  and  if  I  beckon  to 
them,  they  glance  at  each  other,  and  dash  away." 

Thus  much  of  Adele's  account.  But  there  are  three 
or  four  more  visits  to  complete  the  parson's  day.  Pos 
sibly  he  comes  upon  some  member  of  his  flock  in  the 
field,  when*  he  draws  up  Dobbins  to  the  fence,  and  his 
parishioner,  spying  the  old  chaise,  leaves  his  team  to 
blow  a  moment  while  he  strides  forward  with  his  long 
ox-goad  in  hand,  and,  seating  himself  upon  a  stump 
within  easy  earshot,  says,  — 

"  Good  mornin,'  Doctor." 

And  the  parson,  in  his  kindly  way,  "  Good  morning, 
Mr.  Pettibone.  Your  family  pretty  well  ?  " 

"  Waal,  middlin,'  Doctor,  —  only  middlin'.  Miss  Pet 
tibone  is  a-havin'  faintish  spells  along  back ;  complains 
o'  pain  in  her  side." 

"  Sorry,  sorry,"  says  the  good  man :  and  then,  "  Your 
team  is  looking  pretty  well,  Mr.  Pettibone." 

"  Waal,  only  tol'able,  Doctor.  That  nigh  ox,  what 
with  spring  work  an'  grass  feed  is  gittin'  kind  o'  thin  in 
the  flesh.  Any  news  abaout,  Doctor  ?  " 

"  Not  that  I  learn,  Mr.  Pettibone.  We  're  having 
fine  growing  weather  for  your  crops." 


238  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

"  Waal,  only  tol'able,  Doctor.  You  see,  arter  them 
heavy  spring  rains,  the  sun  has  kind  o'  baked  the 
graound ;  the  seed  don't  seem  to  start  well.  I  don't 
know  as  you  remember,  but  in  '29,  along  in  the  spring, 
we  had  jist  sich  a  spell  o'  wet,  an'  corn  hung  back  that 
season  amazin'ly." 

"Well,  Mr.  Pettibone,  we  must  hope  for  the  best: 
it 's  all  in  God's  hands." 

"  Waal,  I  s'pose  it  is,  Doctor,  —  I  s'pose  it  is."  And 
he  makes  a  cut  at  a  clover-head  with  the  lash  upon  his 
ox-goad ;  then  —  as  if  in  recognition  of  the  change 
of  subject  —  he  says,  — 

"  Any  more  talk  on  the  street  abaout  repairin'  the 
ruff  o'  the  meetin'-house,  Doctor  ?  " 

At  sundown,  all  visits  being  paid,  they  go  jogging 
into  town  again,  —  the  Doctor  silent  by  this  time,  and 
thinking  of  his  sermon.  Dobbins  is  tied  always  at  the 
same  post,  —  always  the  hitch-rein  buckled  in  the  third 
hole  from  the  end. 

After  tea,  perhaps,  Phil  and  Rose  come  sauntering 
by,  and  ask  if  Adele  will  go  up  "  to  the  house "  ? 
Which  request,  if  Miss  Eliza  meet  it  with  a  nod  of 
approval,  puts  Adele  by  their  side :  Rose,  with  a  beau 
tiful  recklessness  common  to  New  England  girls  of 
that  day,  wearing  her  hat  drooping  half  down  her  neck, 
and  baring  her  clear  forehead  to  the  falling  night-dews. 
Phil,  with  a  pebble  in  his  hand,  makes  a  feint  of 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  239 

throwing  into  a  flock  of  goslings  that  are  waddling 
disturbedly  after  a  pair  of  staid  old  geese,  but  is  ar 
rested  by  Rose's  prompt  "  Behave,  Phil !  " 

The  Squire  is  reading  his  paper  by  the  evening 
lamp,  but  cannot  forbear  a  greeting  to  Adele  :  — 

"  Ah,  here  we  are  again  !  and  how  is  Madamoizel  ?  " 
(this  is  the  Squire's  style  of  French,)  —  "  and  has  she 
brought  me  the  peony  ?  Phil  would  have  given  his 
head  for  it,  —  eh,  Phil  ?  " 

Rose  is  so  bright,  and  glowing,  and  happy ! 

Mrs.  Elderkin  in  her  rocking-chair,  with  her  gray 
hair  carefully  plaited  under  the  white  lace  cap  whose 
broad  strings  fall  on  either  shoulder,  is  a  picture  of 
motherly  dignity.  Her  pleasant  "  Good  -  evening, 
Adele,"  would  alone  have  paid  the  warm-hearted  exile 
for  her  walk. 

Then  follow  games,  chat,  and  an  occasional  noisy 
joke  from  the  Squire,  until  the  nine  o'clock  town-bell 
gives  warning,  and  Adele  wends  homeward  under  con 
voy  of  the  gallant  Phil. 

"  Good-night,  Adele  !  " 

"  Good-night,  Phil !  " 

Only  this  at  the  gate.  Then  the  Doctor's  evening 
prayer  ;  and  after  it,  —  in  the  quiet  chamber,  where  her 
sweet  head  lay  upon  the  pillow,  —  dreams.  With  rec 
ollections  more  barren  than  those  of  most  of  her  years, 
of  any  early  home,  Adele  still  dreamed  as  hopefully  as 
any  of  a  home  to  come. 


XXX. 

"IN  the  autumn  of  1836,  Maverick  wrote  to  his  friend, 
-*-  the  Doctor,  that,  in  view  of  the  settled  condition 
of  business,  he  intended  to  visit  America  some  time  in 
the  course  of  the  following  season.  He  preferred, 
however,  that  Adele  should  not  be  made  acquainted 
with  his  expected  coming.  He  believed  that  it  would 
be  a  pleasant  surprise  for  his  child  ;  nor  did  he  wish 
her  anticipations  of  his  arrival  to  divert  her  from  the 
usual  current  of  her  study  and  every-day  life. 

"  Above  all,"  he  writes,  "  I  wish  to  see  her  as  she  is, 
without  any  note  of  preparation.  You  will  therefore, 
I  beg,  my  dear  Johns,  keep  from  her  scrupulously  all 
knowledge  of  my  present  intentions,  (which  may  pos 
sibly  miscarry,  after  all,)  and  let  me  see,  to  the  very 
finest  touch,  whether  of  a  ribbon  or  of  a  ringlet,  how 
far  you  have  New-Englanclized  my  dear  girl.  I  form 
a  hundred  pictures  in  my  fancy ;  but  every  new  letter 
from  her  somehow  disturbs  the  old  image,  and  another 
is  conjured  up.  The  only  real  thing  in  my  mind  is, 
after  all,  a  little  child  of  eight,  rosy  and  piquantly  co 
quettish,  who  slaps  my  cheek  when  I  tease  her,  and 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  241 

who,  as  I  bid  her  adieu  at  last  upon  the  ship's  deck, 
looks  through  her  tears  at  me  and  waves  her  little 
kerchief. 

"  It  is  quite  possible  that  I  may  manage  for  her  re 
turn  with  me,  (of  this  plan,  too,  I  beg  you  to  give  no 
hint,)  and  in  view  of  it  I  would  suggest  that  any  avail 
able  occasion  be  seized  upon  to  revive  her  knowledge 
of  French,  which,  I  fear,  in  your  staid  household,  she 
may  almost  have  forgotten.  Tell  dear  Adele  that  I 
am  sometimes  at  Le  Pin,  where  her  godmother  never 
fails  to  inquire  after  her  and  call  down  blessings  on 
the  dear  child." 

Upon  this  the  Doctor  and  Miss  Johns  take  counsel. 
Both  are  not  a  little  disturbed  by  the  anticipation  of 
Adele's  leave.  The  grave  Doctor  finds  his  heart 
wrapped  about  by  the  winning  ways  of  the  little  stran 
ger  in  a  manner  he  could  hardly  have  conceived  possi 
ble  on  the  day  when  he  first  greeted  her.  On  the  score 
of  her  religious  beliefs,  he  is  not,  indeed,  as  yet  thor 
oughly  satisfied  ;  but  he  feels  sure  that  she  is  at  least 
in  a  safe  path.  The  old  idols  are  broken  :  God,  in  His 
own  time,  will  do  the  rest. 

The  spinster,  though  she  has  become  unconsciously 
attached  to  Adele  to  a  degree  of  which  she  hardly  be 
lieves  herself  capable,  is  yet  not  so  much  disconcerted 
by  the  thought  of  any  violence  to  her  affections,  —  for 
all  violence  of  this  kind  she  has  schooled  herself  to  re- 

VOL.    I.  16 


242  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

gard  with  cool  stoicism,  —  but  the  possible  interruption 
of  her  ambitious  schemes  with  respect  to  Eeuben  and 
Adele  discomposes  her  sadly.  Such  a  scheme  she  has 
never  given  over  for  one  moment.  No  plan  of  hers  is 
ever  given  over  lightly ;  and  she  has  that  persistent 
faith  in  her  own  sagacity  and  prudence  which  is  not 
easily  shaken.  The  growing  intercourse  with  the  El- 
derkins,  in  view  of  the  evident  devotion  of  Phil,  has 
been,  indeed,  the  source  of  a  little  uneasiness ;  but 
even  this  intimacy  she  has  moderated  to  a  certain  de 
gree  by  occasional  judicious  fears  in  regard  to  Adele's 
exposure  to  the  night  air ;  and  has  made  the  most  — 
in  her  quiet  manner  —  of  Phil's  exceptional,  but  some 
what  noisy,  attentions  to  that  dashing  girl,  Sophia  Bow- 

rirror. 

**&e 

"  A  very  suitable  match  it  would  be,"  she  says  some 
evening,  casually,  to  the  Doctor ;  "  and  I  really  think 
that  Phil,  if  there  were  any  seriousness  about  the  lad, 
would  meet  his  father's  wishes  in  the  matter.  Adele, 
child,"  (she  is  sitting  by  at  her  worsted,)  "  are  you  sure 
you  've  the  right  shade  of  brown  there  ?  " 

But,  like  most  cool  schemers  in  what  concerns  the 
affections,  she  makes  her  errors.  Her  assurance  in 
regard  to  the  improved  habits  and  character  of  Reu 
ben,  and  her  iteration  of  the  wonderful  attachment 
which  the  Brindlocks  bear  to  the  lad,  have  a  somewhat 
strained  air  to  the  ear  of  Adele.  And  when  the  spin- 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  243 

ster  says,  —  folding  up  his  last  letter,  —  "  Good  fellow  ! 
always  some  tender  little  message  for  you,  my  dear," 
Adele  thinks  —  as  most  girls  of  her  age  would  be  apt 
to  think  —  that  she  would  like  to  see  the  tender  mes 
sage  with  her  own  eyes. 

But  what  of  the  French  ?  Where  is  there  to  be 
found  a  competent  teacher  ?  Not,  surely,  in  Ashfield. 
Miss  Eliza,  with  grave  doubts,  however,  suggests  a  win 
ter  in  New  York  with  the  Brindlocks.  The  Doctor 
shakes  his  head  :  — 

"  Not  to  be  thought  of,  Eliza.  It  is  enough  that  my 
boy  should  undergo  the  perils  of  such  godless  associa 
tion  :  Adaly  shall  not." 

The  question,  however,  of  the  desired  opportunity  is 
not  confined  to  the  parsonage ;  it  has  currency  up  and 
down  the  street ;  and  within  a  week  the  buoyant  Miss 
Bowrigg  comes  to  the  rescue. 

"  Delighted  above  all  things  to  hear  it.  They  have 
a  charming  teacher  in  the  city,  Madame  Aries,  who  has 
the  best  accent.  And  now,  Adele,  dear,  you  must  come 
down  and  pass  the  winter  with  us.  It  will  be  charming." 

It  is,  indeed,  a  mere  girlish  proposal  at  first ;  but, 
much  to  the  delight  of  Miss  Eliza,  it  is  abundantly  con 
firmed  by  a  formal  invitation  from  Mrs.  Bowrigg,  a  few 
weeks  after,  who,  besides  being  attracted  by  the  man 
ners  and  character  of  Adele,  sees  in  it  an  admirable 
opportunity  for  the  accomplishment  of  her  daughters 


244  DOCTOR   JOHNS. 

in  French.  Her  demonstrative  girls  and  a  son  of 
twenty  comprise  her  family.  For  these  reasons,  she 
will  regard  it  as  a  favor,  if  the  Doctor  will  allow  Miss 
Maverick  to  establish  herself  with  them  for  the  winter. 

Miss  Eliza  is  delighted  with  the  scheme,  but  fears 
the  cool  judgment  of  the  Doctor :  and  she  has  abun 
dant  reason. 

"  It  cannot  be,"  he  said,  and  was  quite  inexorable. 

The  truth  is,  that  Mrs.  Bowrigg,  like  a  good  many 
educated  with  a  narrow  severity,  had  expanded  her 
views  under  the  city  influences  in  directions  that  were 
by  no  means  approved  by  the  good  Doctor.  Hers  was 
not  only  a  godless  household,  but  given  over  to  the 
lusts  of  the  eye  and  the  pride  of  life.  It  was  quite  im 
possible  for  him  to  entertain  the  idea  of  submitting 
Adele  to  any  such  worldly  associations. 

Miss  Eliza  pleaded  'the  exigencies  of  the  case  in  vain  ; 
and  even  Adele,  attracted  by  the  novelty  of  the  pro 
posed  situation,  urged  her  claim  in  the  cheeriest  little 
manner  conceivable. 

"  Only  for  the  winter,  New  Papa ;  please  say 
*  Yes ' !  " 

And  the  tender  hands  patted  the  grave  face,  as  she 
seated  herself  with  a  childish  coquetry  upon  the  elbow 
of  his  chair. 

"  Impossible,  quite  impossible,"  says  the  Doctor. 
"  You  are  too  dear  to  me,  Adaly." 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  245 

"  Oh,  now,  New  Papa,  you  don't  mean  that,  —  not 
positively  ?"  —  and  the  winning  fingers  tap  his  cheek 
again. 

But  for  this  time,  at  least,  Adele  is  to  lose  her  claim  ; 
the  Doctor  well  knows  that  to  suffer  such  endearments 
were  to  yield  ;  so  he  rises  brusquely,  — 

"  I  must  be  just,  my  child,  to  the  charge  your  father 
has  imposed  upon  me.  It  cannot  be." 

It  will  not  be  counted  strange,  if  a  little  ill-disguised 
petulance  appeared  in  the  face  of  Adele  that  day  and 
the  next. 

The  winter  of  183G-7  was  a  very  severe  one  through 
out  New  England.  Perhaps  it  was  in  view  of  its  se 
verity,  that,  on  or  about  New  Year's  Day,  there  came  to 
the  parsonage  a  gift  from  Reuben  for  Adele,  in  the 
shape  of  a  fur  tippet,  very  much  to  the  gratification  of 
Miss  Eliza  and  to  the  pleasant  surprise  of  the  Doctor. 

Rose  and  Phil,  sitting  by  the  fire  next  day,  Rose  says, 
in  a  timid  voice,  with  less  than  her  usual  sprightli- 
ness,  — 

"  Do  you  know  who  has  sent  a  beautiful  fur  tippet  to 
Adele,  Phil  ? " 

"  No,"  says  Phil,  briskly.     "  Who  ?  " 

"  Reuben,"  says  Rose,  —  in  a  tone  as  if  a  blush  ran 
over  her  face  at  the  utterance. 

If  there  was  one,  however,  Phil  could  not  have  seen 
it;  he  was  looking  steadfastly  into  the  fire,  and  said 
only,  — 


246  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

"  I  don't  care." 

A  little  after,  (nothing  having  been  said,  meantime,) 
he  has  occasion  to  rearrange  the  wood  upon  the  hearth, 
and  does  it  with  such  preposterous  violence  that  the 
timid  little  voice  heside  him  says,  — 

"  Don't,  Phil,  be  angry  with  the  fire  ! " 

It  was  a  winter,  as  we  have  said,  for  fur  tippets  and 
for  glowing  cheeks ;  and  Adele  had  now  been  long 
enough  under  a  Northern  sky  to  partake  of  that  exhil 
aration  of  spirits  which  belongs  to  every  true-born  New 
Englander  in  presence  of  one  of  those  old-fashioned 
snow-storms,  which,  all  through  the  day  and  through 
the  night,  sifts  out  from  the  gray  sky  its  fleecy  crystals, 
—  covering  the  frosted  high-roads,  covering  the  with 
ered  grasses,  covering  the  whole  summer's  wreck  in  one 
glorious  white  burial ;  and  after  it,  keen  'frosty  morn 
ings,  the  pleasant  jingling  of  scores  of  bells,  jets  of 
white  vapor  from  the  nostrils  of  the  prancing  horses, 
and  a  quick  electric  tingle  to  the  blood,  that  makes 
every  pulse  beat  a  thanksgiving.  Squire  Elderkin 
never  made  better  jokes,  the  flame  upon  his  hearth 
never  danced  more  merrily,  —  the  Doctor  never 
preached  better  sermons,  and  the  people  never  listened 
more  patiently  than  in  those  weeks  of  the  dead  of 
winter. 

But  in  the  midst  of  them  a  black  shadow  fell  upon 
the  little  town.  News  came  overland,  (the  river  being 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  247 

closed,)  that  Mrs.  Bowrigg,  after  an  illness  of  three 
clays,  was  dead ;  and  the  body  of  the  poor  woman  was 
to  come  home  for  burial.  She  had  been  reared,  as  we 
have  said,  under  a  harsh  regimen,  and  had  signalized 
her  married  escape  from  the  somewhat  oppressive  for 
malities  of  home  by  a  pretty  free  entertainment  of  all 
the  indulgences  accessible  in  her  new  life.  Not  that 
she  offended  against  any  of  the  larger  or  lesser  propri 
eties  of  society,  but  she  showed  a  zest  for  the  pleasures 
of  the  world,  and  for  a  certain  measure  of  display, 
which  had  been  the  occasion  of  many  a  sober  shake  of 
the  head  along  the  streets  of  Ashfield,  and  the  subject 
of  particular  commiseration  on  the  part  of  the  good 
Doctor. 

Now  that  her  brilliant  career  (as  it  seemed  to  many 
of  the  staid  folk  of  Ashfield)  was  so  suddenly  closed, 
the  Doctor  could  not  forbear  taking  advantage  of  the 
opportunity  to  press  home  upon  his  people,  under  the 
influences  of  this  somber  funeral  procession,  the  vani 
ties  of  the  world  and  the  fleeting  character  of  its  wealth 
and  pride.  "  We  may  build  palaces,"  said  he,  (and 
people  thought  of  the  elegant  Bowrigg  mansion,)  "  but 
God  locks  the  door  and  assigns  to  us  a  narrower  home  ; 
we  may  court  the  intoxicating  air  of  cities,  but  its 
breath,  in  a  day,  may  blast  our  strength,  and,  except 
He  keep  us,  may  blast  our  souls."  Never  had  the 
Doctor  been  more  eloquent,  and  never  had  he  so  moved 


248  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

his  people.  After  the  evening  prayer,  Adele  stole  into 
the  study  of  the  Doctor,  and  said,  — 

"  New  Papa,  it  was  well  I  stayed  with  you." 

The  old  gentleman  took  her  hand  in  his,  — 

"  Right,  I  believe,  Adaly ;  but  vain,  utterly  vain,  ex 
cept  you  be  counted  among  the  elect." 

The  poor  girl  had  no  reply,  save  only  to  drop  a  kiss 
upon  his  forehead  and  pass  out. 

With  the  opening  of  the  spring  the  towns-people  were 
busy  with  the  question,  if  the  Bowriggs  would  come 
again  to  occupy  their  summer  residence,  that,  with  its 
closed  doors  and  windows,  was  mournfully  silent.  But 
soon  the  gardeners  were  set  to  work  ;  it  was  understood 
that  a  housekeeper  had  been  engaged,  and  the  family 
were  to  occupy  it  as  usual.  Sophia  writes  to  Adele, 
confirming  it  all,  and  adding,  —  "  Madame  Aries  had 
proposed  to  make  us  a  visit,  which  papa  hearing,  and 
wishing  us  to  keep  up  our  studies,  has  given  her  an  in 
vitation  to  pass  the  summer  with  us.  She  says  she 
will.  I  am  so  glad !  We  had  told  her  very  much  of 
you,  and  I  know  she  will  be  delighted  to  have  you  as  a 
scholar." 

At  this  Adele  feels  a  thrill  of  satisfaction,  and  looks 
longingly  forward  to  the  time  when  she  shall  hear  again 
from  native  lips  the  language  of  her  childhood. 

"Mafille!  ma  file!" 

The  voices  of  her  early  home  seem  to  ring  again  in 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  249 

her  ear.  She  basks  once  more  in  the  delicious  flow  of 
the  sunshine,  and  the  perfume  of  the  orange-blossoms 
regales  her. 

"MajiUe!" 

Is  it  the  echo  of  your  voice,  good  old  godmother, 
that  comes  rocking  over  the  great  reach  of  the  sea,  and 
so  touches  the  heart  of  the  exile  ? 


XXXI. 

MADAME  ARLES  was  a  mild  and  quiet  little 
woman,  with  a  singular  absence  of  that  vivacity 
which  most  people  are  disposed  to  attribute  to  all  of 
French  blood.  Her  age  —  so  far  as  one  could  judge 
from  outward  indications  —  might  have  been  anywhere 
from  twenty-eight  to  forty.  There  were  no  wrinkles  in 
that  smooth,  calm  forehead  of  hers  ;  and  if  there  were 
lines  of  gray  amid  her  hair,  this  indication  of  age  was 
so  contradicted  by  the  youthfulness  of  her  eye,  that  a 
keen  observer  would  have  been  disposed  to  attribute  it 
rather  to  some  weight  of  past  grief  that  had  left  its 
silvery  imprint  than  to  the  mere  burden  of  her  years. 

There  are  those  who  stolidly  measure  a  twelvemonth 
always  by  its  count,  and  age  by  such  token  as  a  gray 
head;  but  who  has  not  had  experience  of  months  so 
piled  with  life  that  two  or  three  or  four  of  them  count 
more  upon  the  scale  of  mortality  than  a  score  of  other 
and  sunny  ones  ?  Who  cannot  reckon  such  ?  Who, 
looking  back,  cannot  summon  to  his  thought  some  pas 
sage  of  a  week  in  which  he  seemed  to  stride  toward  the 
END  with  a  crazy  swiftness,  and  under  which  he  felt 


DOCTOR    JOHNS.  251 

that  every  outward  indication  of  age  was  deepening  its 
traces  with  a  wondrous  surety?  Ay,  we  slip,  we  are 
forged  upon  the  anvil  of  Time,  —  God,  who  deals  the 
blows,  only  knows  how  fast ! 

Yet  in  Madame  Aries  we  have  no  notable  character 
to  bring  forward ;  if  past  griefs  have  belonged  to  her, 
they  have  become  long  since  a  part  of  her  character ; 
they  are  in  no  way  obtrusive.  There  was,  indeed,  a 
singular  cast  in  one  of  her  eyes,  which  in  moments  of 
excitement  —  such  few  as  came  over  her  —  impressed 
the  observer  very  strangely ;  as  if,  while  she  looked 
straight  upon  you  and  calmly  with  one  eye,  the  other 
were  bent  upon  some  scene  far  remote  and  out  of 
range,  some  past  episode  it  might  be  of  her  own  life,  by 
over-dwelling  upon  which  she  had  brought  her  organs 
of  sight  into  this  tortured  condition.  Nine  out  of  ten 
observers,  however,  would  never  have  remarked  the 
peculiarity  we  have  mentioned,  and  would  only  have 
commented  upon  Madame  Aries  —  if  they  had  com 
mented  at  all  —  as  a  quiet  person,  in  whom  youth  and 
age  seemed  just  now  to  struggle  for  the  mastery,  and  in 
whom  no  trace  of  French  birth  and  rearing  was  appar 
ent,  save  her  speech,  and  a  certain  wonderful  aptitude 
in  the  arrangement  of  her  dress.  The  poor  lady, 
moreover,  who  showed  traces  of  a  vanished  beauty,  was 
a  sad  invalid,  and  for  this  reason,  perhaps,  had  readily 
accepted  the  relief  afforded  by  this  summer  vacation 


252  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

with  two  of  her  city  pupils.  A  violent  palpitation  of 
the  heart,  from  time  to  time,  after  sudden  or  undue 
exertion  or  excitement,  shook  the  poor  woman's  frail 
hold  upon  life.  Possibly  from  this  cause  —  as  is  the 
case  with  many  who  are  compelled  to  listen  to  those 
premonitory  raps  of  the  grim  visitor  at  the  very  seat  of 
life  —  Madame  Aries  was  a  person  of  strong  religious 
proclivities.  Death  is  knocking  at  all  hearts,  indeed, 
pretty  regularly,  and  his  pace  toward  triumph  is  as  for 
mally  certain  as  a  pulse-beat ;  but  it  is,  after  all,  those 
disorderly  summons  of  his,  —  when  in  a  kind  of  splen 
etic  rage  he  grips  at  our  heart-strings,  and  then  lets  go, 
—  which  keep  specially  active  the  religious  sentiment. 
Madame  Aries  had  been  educated  in  the  Romish  faith, 
and  accepted  all  its  tenets  with  the  same  unquestion 
ing  placidity  with  which  she  enjoyed  the  sunshine. 
Without  any  particular  knowledge  of  the  way  in  which 
this  faith  diverged  from  other  Christian  forms,  she 
leaned  upon  it  (as  so  many  fainting  spirits  do  and  will) 
because  the  most  available  and  accessible  prop  to  that 
religious  yearning  in  her  which  craved  support.  So 
instinctive  and  unreasoning  a  faith  was  not,  however, 
such  as  to  provoke  any  proselytizing  zeal  or  noisy  dem 
onstration.  Had  it  been  otherwise,  indeed,  it  could 
hardly  have  disturbed  her  position  with  the  Bowriggs, 
or  interrupted  relations  with  her  city  patrons. 
In  Ashfield  the  case  was  far  different. 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  253 

Adele,  accompanied  by  her  friend  Rose,  —  who,  not 
withstanding  the  quiet  remonstrances  of  the  Doctor, 
had  won  her  mother's  permission  for  such  equipment 
in  French  as  she  could  gain  from  a  summer's  teaching, 
—  went  with  early  greeting  to  the  Bowriggs.  The 
curiosity  of  Adele  was  intense  to  listen  to  the  music 
of  her  native  speech  once  more ;  and  when  Madame 
Aries  slipped  quietly  into  the  room,  Adele  darted 
toward  her  with  warm,  girlish  impulse,  and  the  poor 
woman,  excited  beyond  bounds  by  this  heartiness  of 
greeting,  and  murmuring  some  tender  words  of  endear 
ment,  had  presently  folded  her  to  her  bosom. 

Adele,  blushing  as  much  with  pleasure  as  with  a 
half-feeling  of  mortification  at  the  wild  show  of  feeling 
she  had  made,  was  stammering  her  apology,  when  she 
was  arrested  by  a  sudden  change  in  the  aspect  of  her 
new  friend. 

"  My  dear  Madame,  you  are  suffering  ?  " 

"  A  little,  my  child  !  " 

It  was  too  true,  as  the  quick  glance  of  her  old  pupils 
saw  in  an  instant.  Her  lips  were  pinched  and  blue ; 
that  strange  double  look  in  her  eyes,  —  one  fastened 
upon  Adele,  and  the  other  upon  vacancy ;  her  hands 
clasped  over  her  heart  as  if  to  stay  its  mad  throbbings. 
While  Sophia  supported  and  conducted  the  sufferer 
to  her  own  chamber,  the  younger  sister  explained 
to  Adele  that  such  spasmodic  attacks  were  of  frequent 


254  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

occurrence,  and  their  physician  had  assured  them  must, 
at  a  very  early  day,  destroy  her. 

Nothing  more  was  needed  to  enlist  Adele's  sympa 
thies  to  the  full.  She  carried  home  the  story  of  it  to 
the  Doctor,  and  detailed  it  in  such  an  impassioned  way, 
and  with  such  interpretation  of  the  kind  lady's  recep 
tion  of  herself,  that  the  Doctor  was  touched,  and  abated 
no  small  measure  of  the  prejudice  he  had  been  disposed 
to  entertain  against  the  Frenchwoman. 

But  her  heresies  in  the  matter  of  religion  remained, 
—  it  being  no  secret  that  Madame  Aries  was  thor 
oughly  Popish  ;  and  these  disturbed  the  good  Doctor 
the  more,  as  he  perceived  the  growing  and  tender 
intimacy  which  was  establishing  itself,  week  by  week, 
between  Adele  and  her  new  teacher.  Indeed,  he  has 
not  sanctioned  this  without  his  own  private  conversa 
tion  with  Madame,  in  which  he  has  set  forth  his  re 
sponsibility  respecting  Adele  and  the  wishes  of  her 
father,  and  insisted  upon  entire  reserve  of  Madame's 
religious  opinions  in  her  intercourse  with  his  protegee. 
All  which  the  poor  lady  had  promised  with  a  ready  zeal 
that  surprised  the  minister. 

"  Indeed,  I  know  too  little,  Doctor ;  I  could  wish  she 
might  be  better  than  I.  May  God  make  her  so !  " 

"  I  do  not  judge  you,  Madame ;  it  is  not  ours  to 
judge  ;  but  I  would  keep  Adaly  securely,  if  God  per 
mit,  in  the  faith  which  we  reverence  here,  and  which  I 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  255 

much  fear  she  could  never  learn  in  her  own  land  or  her 
own  language." 

"  May  be,  may  be,  my  good  Doctor ;  her  faith  shall 
not  be  disturbed  by  me,  I  promise  you." 

Adele.  with  her  quick  ear  and  eye,  has  no  difficulty 
in  discovering  the  ground  of  the  Doctor's  uneasiness 
and  of  Miss  Eliza's  frequent  questionings  in  regard  to 
her  intercourse  with  the  new  teacher. 

"  I  am  sure  they  think  you  very  bad,"  she  said  to 
Madame  Aries,  one  day,  in  a  spirit  of  mischief. 

"Bad!  bad!  Adele,  why?  how?"  — and  that 
strange  tortuous  look  came  to  her  eye,  with  a  quick 
flush  to  her  cheeks. 

"  Ah,  now,  dear  Madame,  don't  be  disturbed ;  't  is 
only  your  religion  they  think  so  bad,  and  fear  you  will 
mislead  me.  Tenez!  this  little  rosary"  (and  she  dis 
plays  it  to  the  eye  of  the  wondering  Madame  Aries) 
"  they  would  have  taken  from  me." 

Madame  pressed  the  beads  reverently  to  her  lips, 
while  her  manner  betrayed  a  deep  religious  emotion, 
(as  it  seemed  to  Adele,)  which  she  had  rarely  seen  in 
her  before. 

"  And  you  claimed  it,  my  child  ?  " 

"Not  for  any  faith  I  had  in  it;  but  it  was  my 
mother's." 

The  good  woman  kissed  Adele. 

"  You  must  long  to  see  her,  my  child  ! " 


256  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

A  shade  of  sorrow  and  doubt  ran  over  the  face  of 
the  girl.  This  did  not  escape  the  notice  of  Madame 
Aries,  who,  with  a  terribly  dejected  and  distracted  air, 
replaced  the  rosary  in  her  hands. 

"  Man  ange  !  "  (in  this  winsome  way  she  was  accus 
tomed  at  times  to  address  Adele)  "  we  cannot  talk  of 
these  things.  I  have  promised  as  much  to  the  Doc 
tor  ;  it  is  better  so  ;  he  is  a  good  man." 

Adele  sat  toying  for  a  moment  with  the  rosary  upon 
her  fingers,  looking  down ;  then,  seeing  that  woe-be- 
gone  expression  that  had  fastened  upon  the  face  of  her 
companion,  she  sprang  up,  kissed  her  forehead,  and, 
restoring  thus  —  as  she  knew  she  could  do  —  a  cheer- 
iness  to  her  manner,  resumed  her  lesson. 

But  from  this  time  forth  she  showed  an  eagerness  to 
unriddle,  so  far  as  she  might,  the  mystery  of  that  faith 
which  the  Doctor  clothed  in  his  ponderous  discourses, 
—  weighed  down  and  oppressed  by  his  prolixity,  and 
confounded  by  doctrines  she  could  not  comprehend,  yet 
recognizing,  under  all,  his  serene  trust,  and  gratefully 
conscious  of  his  tender  regard  and  constant  watchful 
ness.  But,  more  than  all,  it  was  a  subject  of  confusion 
to  her,  that  the  prim  and  austere  Miss  Eliza,  whose 
pride  and  selfishness  her  keen  eye  could  not  fail  to  see, 
should  be  possessed  of  a  truer  faith  than  the  poor 
stranger  whose  gentleness,  and  suffering  so  patiently 
borne,  seemed  in  a  measure  to  Christianize  and  dignify 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  257 

character.  And  if  she  dropped  a  hint  of  these  doubts, 
as  she  sometimes  did,  in  the  ear  of  the  motherly  Mrs. 
Elderkin,  that  good  woman  took  her  hand  tenderly,  — 
"  My  dear  Adele,  we  are  all  imperfect ;  but  God  sees 
with  other  eyes  than  ours.  Trust  Him,  —  trust  Him 
above  all,  Adele  !  " 

Yes,  she  trusts  Him,  —  she  knows  she  trusts  Him. 
Why  not  ?  Whom  else  to  trust  ?  No  tender  motherly 
care  and  guidance ;  the  father,  by  these  years  of  ab 
sence,  made  almost  a  stranger.  The  low  voice  of  her 
native  land,  that  comes  to  her  ear  with  a  charming  flow 
from  the  lips  of  her  new  teacher,  never  to  speak  of  her 
doubts  or  questionings  ;  the  constrained  love  of  the 
Doctor,  her  New  Papa,  framing  itself,  whenever  it 
touches  upon  the  deeper  motives  of  her  nature,  in  stark 
formulas  of  speech,  that  blind  and  confound  her ;  the 
spinster  sister  talking  kindly,  but  commending  the  tie 
of  her  hat-ribbons  in  the  same  tone  with  which  she 
iirges  adherence  to  some  cumbrous  enunciation  of  doc 
trine.  And  Adele  cherishes  her  little  friendships  (most 
of  all  with  Rose)  ;  not  alive  as  yet  to  any  tenderer  and 
stronger  passion  that  shall  engross  her,  and  make  or  mar 
her  life ;  swinging  her  reticule,  as  in  the  days  gone  by, 
under  the  trees  that  embower  the  village  street ;  loving 
the  bloom,  the  verdure,  the  singing  of  the  birds,  but 
with  every  month  now  —  as  she  begins  to  fathom  the 
abyss  of  life  with  her  own  thought  —  grown  more  seri- 

VOL.    I.  17 


258  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

ous.  It  is  always  thus :  the  girl  we  toyed  with  yester 
day  with  our  inanities  of  speech  is  to-morrow,  by  some 
sudden  reach  of  womanly  thought,  another  creature,  — 
out  of  range,  and  so  alert,  that,  if  we  would  conquer 
her,  we  must  bring  up  our  heaviest  siege-trains. 


XXXII. 

TN  the  summer  of  1837,  Maverick,  who  had  con- 
-*-  tinued  eminently  successful,  determined  to  sail  for 
America,  and  to  make  good  his  promise  of  a  visit  to 
the  Doctor  and  Adele.  It  may  appear  somewhat  inex 
plicable  that  a  father  should  have  deferred  to  so  late  a 
day  the  occasion  of  meeting  and  greeting  an  only  child. 
That  his  attachment  was  strong,  his  letters,  full  of  ex 
pressions  of  affection,  had  abundantly  shown ;  but  the 
engrossments  of  business  had  been  unceasing,  and  he 
had  met  them  with  that  American  abandonment  of 
other  thought,  which,  while  it  insures  special  success, 
is  too  apt  to  make  shipwreck  of  all  besides.  He  was 
living,  moreover,  without  experience  of  those  tender 
family  ties  which  ripen  a  man's  domestic  affections,  and 
make  the  absence  of  a  child  —  most  of  all,  an  only 
child  —  a  daily  burden. 

Maverick  shows  no  more  appearance  of  age  than 
when  we  saw  him  ten  years  since,  placing  his  little 
offering  of  flowers  upon  the  breakfast-table  of  poor 
Rachel,  —  an  excellently  well-preserved  man,  —  dressed 
always  in  that  close  conformity  to  the  existing  mode 


260  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

which  of  itself  gives  a  young  air,  —  brushing  his  hair 
sedulously  so  as  to  cover  the  growing  spot  of  bald 
ness,  —  regulating  all  his  table  indulgences  with  the 
same  precision  with  which  he  governs  his  business,  — 
using  all  the  appliances  of  flesh-brushes  and  salt-baths 
to  baffle  any  insidious  ailment,  —  a  strong,  hale,  cheery 
man,  who  would  have  ranked  by  a  score  (judging 
from  his  exterior)  younger  than  the  Doctor.  In  our 
time  the  clerical  fraternity  are  putting  a  somewhat 
wiser  valuation  upon  those  aids  to  firm  muscle  and 
good  digestion  which  forty  years  ago  in  New  England 
their  brethren  gave  over  contemptuously  to  men  of 
the  world.  What  fearful,  pinching  dyspepsias,  what 
weak,  trembling  knees  and  aching  sides  have  been 
carried  into  pulpits,  and  have  been  strained  to  the 
propagation  of  spiritual  doctrine,  under  the  absurd 
belief  that  these  bodies  of  ours  were  not  given  us 
to  be  cherished !  As  if  a  Gabriel  would  not  need 
clean  limbs  and  a  firm  hand  in  a  grapple  with  the 
ministers  of  misrule  ! 

Shall  we  look  for  a  moment  at  the  French  home 
which  Maverick  is  leaving  ?  A  compact  country-house 
of  yellow  stone  upon  a  niche  of  the  hills  that  over 
look  the  blue  Bay  of  Lyons  ;  a  green  arbor  over  the 
walk  leading  to  the  door ;  clumps  of  pittosporum  and 
of  jessamine,  with  two  or  three  straggling  fig-trees, 
within  the  inclosure ;  a  billiard-room  and  salle-a-man- 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  261 

ger  in  the  basement,  and  on  the  first  floor  a  salon, 
opening,  by  its  long,  heavily  draped  windows,  upon 
a  balcony  shielded  with  striped  awning.  Here  on 
many  an  evening,  when  the  night  wind  comes  in  from 
the  sea,  Maverick  lounges  sipping  at  his  demi-tasse, 
whiffing  at  a  fragrant  Havana,  (imported  to  order,) 
and  chatting  with  some  friend  he  has  driven  out  from 
the  stifling  streets  of  Marseilles  about  the  business 
chances  of  the  morrow.  A  tall,  agile  Alsatian  woman, 
with  a  gilt  crucifix  about  her  neck,  and  a  great  deal 
of  the  peasant  beauty  still  in  her  face,  glides  into  the 
salon  from  time  to  time,  acting  apparently  in  the  ca 
pacity  of  mistress  of  the  establishment,  —  respect 
fully  courteous  to  Maverick  and  his  friend,  yet  show 
ing  something  more  than  the  usual  familiarity  of  a 
dependent  housekeeper. 

The  friend  who  sits  with  him  enjoying  the  night 
breeze  and  those  rare  Havanas  is  an  open-faced,  mid 
dle-aged  companion  of  the  city,  with  whom  Maverick 
has  sometimes  gone  to  a  bourgeois  home  near  to  Mon- 
tauban,  where  a  wrinkle-^faced  old  Frenchman  in  vel 
vet  skull  -  cap  —  the  father  of  his  friend  —  has  re 
ceived  him  with  profound  obeisance,  brought  out  for 
him  his  best  cru  of  St.  Peray,  and  bored  him  with 
long  stories  of  the  times  of  1798,  in  which  he  was 
a  participant.  Yet  the  home-scenes  there,  with  the 
wrinkled  old  father  and  the  stately  mamma  for  part- 


262  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

ners  at  whist  or  boston,  have  been  grateful  to  Mav 
erick,  as  reminders  of  other  home-scenes  long  passed 
out  of  reach ;  and  he  has  opened  his  heart  to  this 
son  of  the  house. 

"  Monsieur  Papiol,"  (it  is  the  Alsatian  woman  who 
is  addressing  the  friend  of  Maverick,)  "  ask,  then, 
why  it  is  Monsieur  Frank  is  going  to  America." 

"  Ah,  Lucille,  do  you  not  know,  then,  there  is  a  cer 
tain  Puritan  belle  he  goes  to  look  after  ?  " 

"  Pah ! "  says  the  Alsatian.  "  Monsieur  is  not  so 
young ! " 

Maverick  puffs  at  his  cigar  thoughtfully,  —  a 
thoughtfulness  that  does  not  encourage  the  Alsatian 
to  other  speech,  —  and  in  a  moment  more  she  is  gone. 

"  Seriously,  Maverick,"  says  Papiol,  when  they  are 
alone  again,  "  what  will  you  do  with  this  Puritan 
daughter  of  yours  ?  " 

"  Keep  her  from  ways  of  wickedness,"  said  Mav 
erick,  without  losing  his  thoughtfulness. 

"  Excellent !  "  said  the  friend,  laughing  ;  "  but  you 
will  hardly  bring  her  to  this 'home  of  yours,  then?" 

"  Hardly  to  this  country  of  yours,  Pierre." 

"  Nonsense,  Maverick !  You  will  be  too  proud  of 
her,  mon  ami.  I  'm  sure  of  that.  You  '11  never  keep 
her  cribbed  yonder.  We  shall  see  you  escorting  her 
some  day  up  and  down  the  Prado,  and  all  the  fine 
young  fellows  hereabout  paying  court  to  the  belle 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  268 

Americaine.  My  faith !  I  shall  be  wishing  myself 
twenty  years  younger  !  " 

Maverick  is   still  very   thoughtful. 

"  What  is  it,  my  good  fellow  ?  Is  it  —  that  the 
family  question  gives  annoyance  among  your  friends 
yonder  ? " 

"On  the  contrary,"  says  Maverick, —  and  reaching 
a  file  of  letters  in  his  cabinet,  he  lays  before  his  com 
panion  that  fragment  of  the  Doctor's  epistle  which 
had  spoken  of  the  rosary,  and  of  his  discovery  that 
it  had  been  the  gift  of  the  mother,  "  so  near,  and  he 
trusted  dear  a  relative." 

"  Mais,  comme  il  est  innocent,  your  good  old  friend 
there ! " 

"  I  wish  to  God,  Pierre,  I  were  as  innocent  as  he," 
said  Maverick,  and  tossed  his  cigar  over  the  edge  of 
the  balcony. 

Upon  his  arrival  at  New  York,  Maverick  did  not 
communicate  directly  with  the  Doctor,  enjoying  the 
thought,  very  likely,  of  surprising  his  old  friend  by 
his  visit,  very  much  as  he  had  surprised  him  many 
years  before.  He  takes  boat  to  a  convenient  point 
upon  the  shore  of  the  Sound,  and  thence  chooses  to 
approach  the  town  that  holds  what  is  most  dear  to 
him  by  an  old,  lumbering  stage-coach,  which  still  plies 
across  the  hills,  as  twenty  years  before,  through  the 


264  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

parish  of  Ashfield.  The  same  patches  of  tasseled 
corn,  (it  is  August,)  the  same  outlying  bushy  pastures, 
the  same  reeling  walls  of  mossy  cobble-stones  meet 
his  eye  that  he  remembered  on  his  previous  visit. 
But  he  looks  upon  all  wayside  views  carelessly,  —  as 
one  seeing,  and  yet  not  seeing  them. 

His  daughter  Adele,  she  who  parted  from  him  a 
toy-child  eight  years  gone,  whom  a  new  ribbon  would 
amuse  in  that  day,  must  have  changed.  That  she 
has  not  lost  her  love  of  him,  those  letters  have  told ; 
that  she  has  not  lost  her  girlish  buoyancy,  he  knows. 
She  must  be  tall  now,  and  womanly  in  stature,  he 
thinks.  She  promised  to  be  graceful.  That  he  will 
love  her,  he  feels  ;  but  will  he  be  proud  of  her  ?  A 
fine  figure,  a  sweet,  womanly  voice,  an  arch  look,  a 
winning  smile,  a  pretty  coquetry  of  glance,  —  will  he 
find  these  ?  And  does  he  not  build  his  pride  on  hope 
of  these  ?  Will  she  be  clever  ?  Will  there  be  traces, 
ripened  in  these  last  years,  of  the  mother,  —  offen 
sive  traces  possibly  ? 

But  Maverick  is  what  the  world  calls  a  philosopher ; 
he  hums,  unconsciously,  a  snatch  of  a  French  song, 
by  which  he  rouses  the  attention  of  the  spectacled 
old  lady,  (the  only  other  occupant  of  the  coach,)  with 
whom  he  has  already  made  some  conversational  ven 
tures,  and  who  has  just  finished  a  lunch  which  she 
has  drawn  from  her  capacious  work-bag.  Reviving 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  265 

now  under  the  influence  of  Maverick's  chance  frag 
ment  of  song,  and  dusting  the  crumbs  from  her  lap, 
she  says, — 

"We  don't  have  very  good  singin'  now  in  the 
Glostcnbury  meetin'." 

"  Ah  !  "  says  Maverick. 

"No;  Squire  Peter's  darters  have  bin  gittin'  mar 
ried,  and  the  young  girls  ha'n't  come  on  yit. 

"  You  attend  the  Glostenbury  Church,  then,  mad 
am  ?  "  says  Maverick,  who  enjoys  the  provincialisms 
of  her  speech,  like  a  whiff  of  the  lilac  perfume  which 
he  once  loved. 

"  In  gineral,  sir ;  but  we  come  down  odd  spells 
to  hear  Dr.  Johns,  who  preaches  at  the  Ashfield  meet- 
in'-house.  He 's  a  real  smart  man." 

"  Ah  !     And  this  Dr.  Johns  has  a  family,  I  think  ?  " 

"  Waal,  the  Doctor  lost  his  wife,  you  see,  quite 
airly  ;  and  Miss  Johns  —  that 's  his  sister  —  has  bin 
a-keepin'  house  for  him  ever  sence.  I  'm  not  ac 
quainted  with  her,  but  I  've  heerd  she 's  a  very  smart 
woman.  And  there  's  a  French  girl  that  came  to 
live  with  'em,  goin'  on  now  seven  or  eight  year,  who 
was  a  reg'lar  Roman  Catholic  ;  but  I  kind  o'  guess 
the  old  folks  has  tamed  her  down  afore  now." 

"  Ah !  I  should  think  that  a  Roman  Catholic 
would  have  but  a  poor  chance  in  a  New  England 
village." 


2G6  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

"Not  much  of  a  chance  anywhere,  I  guess,"  said 
the  old  lady,  wiping  her  spectacles,  "if  folks  only 
preached  the  Gospil." 

Even  now  the  coach  is  creaking  along  through 
the  outskirts  of  Ashfield ;  and  presently  the  driver's 
horn  wakes  the  echoes  of  the  hills,  while  the  horses 
plunge  forward  at  a  doubled  pace.  The  eyes  of 
Maverick  are  intent  upon  every  house,  every  open 
window,  every  moving  figure. 

"  It  's  a  most  a  beautiful  town,"  said  the  old 
lady. 

"  Charming,  charming,  madam  ! "  —  and  even  as 
he  spoke,  Maverick's  eye  fastens  upon  two  figures 
before  them  with  a  strange  yearning  in  his  gaze,  — 
two  figures  of  almost  equal  height  :  a  little,  coquet 
tish  play  of  ribbons  about  the  head  of  one,  which  in 
the  other  are  absent ;  a  girlish,  elastic  step  to  one, 
that  does  not  belong  to  the  other. 

Is  there  something  in  the  gait,  something  in  the 
poise  of  the  head,  to  which  the  memory  of  Maverick 
so  cleaves?  It  is,  indeed,  Adele,  taking  her  noon 
day  walk  with  Madame  Aries.  A  lithe  figure  and 
a  buoyant  step,  holding  themselves  tenderly  in  check 
for  the  slower  pace  of  the  companion.  Maverick's 
gaze  keeps  fast  upon  them,  —  fast  upon  them,  until 
the  old  coach  is  fairly  abreast,  —  fast  upon  them, 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  267 

until  by  a  glance  back  he  has  caught  full  sight  of 
the  faces. 

"  Mon  Dieu ! "  he  exclaims,  and  throws  himself 
back  in  the  coach. 

"  Haow  ? "  says   the  old   lady. 

"  Mon  Dieu,  it  is  she !  "  continues  Maverick,  speak 
ing  under  intense  excitement  to  himself,  as  if  un 
conscious  of  any  other  presence. 

"  Iliiow,"   urged   the   old   lady,   more  persistently. 

"  Damn  it,  nothing,  madam ! " 

"And  the  old  lady  drew  the  strings  of  her  bag 
closely,  and  looked  full  out  of  the  opposite  window. 

Within  a  half-hour  the  stage-coach  arrived  at  the 
Eagle  Tavern.  Maverick  demanded  a  chamber,  and 
asked  to  see  the  landlord.  The  stout,  blear-eyed 
Boody  presently  made  his  appearance. 

"  How  can  I  reach  New  York  soonest,  my  friend  ? " 

Mr.    Boody   consulted   his   watch. 

"Well,  by  fast  driving  you  might  catch  the  night- 
boat  on  the  river." 

"  Can   you   get   me   there   in   time  ? " 

"  Well,  sir,"  reflecting  a  moment,  "  I  guess  I 
can." 

"  Very  good.  Have  your  carriage  ready  as  soon 
as  possible." 

And  within  an  hour,  Maverick,  dejected,  and  with 
an  anxious  air,  was  on  his  return  to  the  city. 


268  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

Three  days  after,  the  Doctor  summons  Adele  into 
his  study. 

"  Adaly,  here  is  a  letter  from  your  father,  which  I 
wish  you  to  read." 

The  girl  takes  it  eagerly,  and  at  the  first  line 
exclaims,  — 

"  He  is  in  New  York !  Why  does  n't  he  come 
here?" 

"  MY  DEAR  JOHNS,"  (so  his  letter  runs,)  "  I  had 
counted  on  surprising  you  completely  by  dropping 
in  upon  you  at  your  parsonage,  (so  often  in  my 
thought,)  at  Ashfield ;  but  circumstances  have  pre 
vented.  Can  I  ask  so  large  a  favor  of  you  as  to 
bring  my  dear  Adele  to  meet  me  here  ?  If  your 
parochial  duties  forbid  this  utterly,  can  you  not  see 
her  safely  on  the  river-boat,  and  I  will  meet  her  at 
the  wharf  in  New  York  ?  But,  above  all,  I  hope  you 
will  come  with  her.  I  fancy  her  now  so  accom 
plished  a  young  lady,  that  there  will  be  needed  some 
ceremony  of  presentation  at  your  hands ;  besides 
which,  I  want  a  long  talk  with  you.  We  are  both 
many  years  older  since  we  have  met;  you  have  had 
your  trials,  and  I  have  escaped  with  only  a  few 
rubs.  Let  us  talk  them  over.  Slip  away  quietly, 
if  you  can  ;  beyond  Adele  and  your  good  sister, 
can't  you  conceal  your  errand  to  the  city  ?  Your 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  269 

country  villages  are  so  prone  to  gossip,  that  I  would 
wish  to  clasp  my  little  Adele  before  your  towns-folk 
shall  have  talked  the  matter  over.  Pray  ask  your 
good  sister  to  prepare  the  wardrobe  of  Adele  for  a 
month  or  two  of  absence,  since  I  mean  she  shall 
be  my  attendant  on  a  little  jaunt  through  the  coun 
try.  I  long  to  greet  her  ;  and  your  grave  face,  my 
dear  Johns,  is  always  a  welcome  sight." 

Adele  is  in  a  fever  of  excitement.  In  her  happy 
glee  she  would  have  gone  out  to  tell  all  the  village 
what  pleasure  was  before  her.  Even  the  caution 
she  receives  from  the  Doctor  cannot  control  her 
spirits  absolutely.  She  makes  her  little  adieux,  for 
a  while,  under  a  certain  control  that  surprises  her 
self.  But  when,  in  her  light-hearted  ramble,  she 
comes  to  say  good-by  to  Madame  Aries,  toward 
whom  her  sympathies  seem  to  flow  in  spite  of  her 
self,  she  cannot  forbear  saying,  "  What  harm,  pray, 
can  there  be  in  this  ? " 

"  Such  a  secret,  chere  Madame !  I  am  going  to 
New  York,  you  know,  with  Dr.  Johns,  the  good 
man  !  and  —  such  a  secret !  don't  whisper  it !  —  Papa 
has  come,  and  has  sent  for  me,  and  we  are  to 
travel  together !  "  And  she  sprang  at  Madame  Aries, 
and,  clasping  her  arms  around  her  neck,  kissed  her 
with  a  vehemence  that  might  have  startled  even  a 
less  excitable  person. 


270  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

"  Is  it  possible,  my  child !  I  wish  you  joy,  with  all 
my  heart" 

And  as  if  the  exuberance  of  the  wish  had  started 
her  old  ailment  into  new  vigor,  she  has  clasped  her 
hands  wildly  over  that  bosom,  to  stay,  if  it  might 
be,  those  inordinate  throbbings. 

But  the  adieux  are  at  last  all  spoken.  Mrs.  El- 
derkin  had  said,  "  My  child,  I  rejoice  Avith  you ;  and 
if  I '  never  see  you  again,"  —  (for  she  had  her  sus 
picions  that  the  sudden  movement  had  some  connec 
tion  with  the  wishes  of  her  father,)  —  "  if  I  never  see 
you  again,  I  hope  you  may  keep  always  the  simplic 
ity  and  the  love  of  truth  I  believe  you  have  now." 

Rose,  almost  bewildered  by  the  gleeful  excitement 
of  her  friend,  enters  eagerly  into  all  her  arrange 
ments,  trips  into  her  chamber  to  assist  in  her  pack 
ing,  insists,  over  and  over,  that  she  must  write  often 
and  long  letters. 

Girls  of  sixteen  or  thereabout  are  prone  to  ex 
pectancies  of  this  kind.  Their  friendships  cover 
reams.  Their  promises  of  never-dying  attachment 
are  so  full,  so  rich !  But  as  the  years  drop  these 
girl  friends  into  their  separate  spheres,  with  a  new 
world  of  interests,  domestic  buffetings,  nursery  clamor, 
growing  up  around  them,  the  tender  correspondence, 
before  they  know  it,  is  gone  by.  And  the  budget  of 
sweet  and  gushing  school-day  epistles  is  cut  through 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  271 

and  through  with  the  ruthless  family  shears,  to  kindle 
the  family  lamp  or  to  light  the  cigar  of  some  ex 
acting  and  surly  pater-familias. 

"I  suppose  you  will  see  Reuben  in  the  city," 
Rose  had  said,  in  a  chance  way. 

"  Oh,  I   hope   so !  "  said   Adele. 

And  of  Reuben  neither  of  them  said  any  thing 
more. 

Then  with  what  a  great  storm  of  embraces  Adele 
parted  from  Rose !  A  parting  only  for  a  month, 
perhaps:  both  knew  that.  But  the  friendship  of 
young  girls  can  build  a  week  into  a  monstrous  void. 
God  bless  their  dear  hearts,  and,  if  the  wish  be  not 
wicked,  keep  them  always  as  fresh ! 

"  Phil,  who  is  a  sturdy  and  somewhat  timid  lover, 
without  knowing  it,  affects  an  air  of  composure,  and 
says,  — 

"  I  hope  you  '11  have  a  good  time,  Adele ;  and  I 
suppose  you  '11  forget  us  all  here  in  Ashfield." 

"  No,  you  don't  suppose  any  such  thing,  Mister 
Philip,"  says  Adele,  roundly,  and  with  a  frank,  full 
look  at  him  that  makes  the  color  come  to  his  face  ; 
and  he  laughs,  but  not  easily. 

"Well,  good-by,   Adele." 

She   takes   his   hand,   eagerly. 

"  Good-by,  Phil ;  you  're  a  dear,  good  fellow ;  and 
you  've  been  very  kind  to  me." 


272  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

Possibly  there  may  have  been  a  little  water  gather 
ing  in  her  eye  as  she  spoke.  It  is  certain  that  the 
upper  lip  of  Phil  trembled  as  he  strolled  away.  After 
walking  a  few  paces  out  of  sight  and  hearing,  snap 
ping  his  fingers  nervously  the  while,  he  used  some  bad 
interjectional  language,  which  we  shall  express  more 
moderately. 

"  Hang  it,  I  'm  sorry,  deused  sorry  !  I  did  n't  think  I 
liked  her  so." 

Walking,  with  head  down,  snapping  those  fin 
gers  of  his,  —  past  his  own  gate  a  long  way,  (though  it 
is  full  dinner-hour,)  —  mumbling  again,  — 

"  By  George !  I  believe  I  ought  to  have  said  some 
thing  ;  but,  Jiang  it,  what  could  a  fellow  say  ?  " 

He  hears  the  coach  driving  off,  and  with  a  sudden 
thought  rushes  home,  enters  quietly,  goes  up  the  stairs, 
makes  a  feint  as  if  he  were  entering  his  chamber,  but 
passes  on  tiptoe  into  the  garret,  opens  the  roof-door, 
and  from  the  house-top  catches  a  last  glimpse  of  the 
stage-coach  rattling  down  the  south  road.  A  wood 
hides  it  presently. 

"  Confound  it  all !  "  he  says,  with  great  heartiness, 
and  goes  down  to  dinner. 

"  My  son,  you  have  n't  a  good   appetite,"   says   the 
kindly  mother. 

"  I  ate  a  big  lunch,"  says  Phil. 

He  knew  it  was  a  whopper. 


XXXIIL 

TT  is  at  Jennings's  old  City  Hotel,  far  down  Broad- 
-*~  way,  that  Maverick  has  taken  rooms  and  awaits 
the  arrival  of  Adele.  That  glimpse  of  her  upon  the 
street  of  Ashfield  (ay,  he  knew  it  must  be  she  !)  has 
added  pride  to  the  instinctive  love  of  the  parent.  The 
elastic  step,  the  graceful  figure,  the  beaming,  sunny 
face,  —  they  all  haunt  him ;  they  put  him  in  a  fever 
of  expectation.  He  reads  over  again  the  few  last 
letters  of  hers  under  a  new  light ;  up  and  down  along 
the  page,  that  lithe,  tall  figure  is  always  coming  for 
ward,  and  the  words  of  endearment  are  coupled  with 
that  sunny  face. 

He  even  prepares  his  toilet  to  meet  her,  as  a  lover 
might  do  to  meet  his  affianced.  And  the  meeting, 
when  it  comes,  only  deepens  the  pride.  Graceful  ? 
Yes  !  That  bound  toward  him,  —  can  any  thing  be 
fuller  of  grace  ?  Natural  ?  The  look  and  the  speech 
of  Aclcle  are  to  Maverick  a  new  revelation  of  Nature. 
Loving  ?  That  clinging  kiss  of  hers  was  worth  his 
voyage  over  the  sea. 

And  she,  too,  is  so  beautifully  proud  of  her  father ! 
She  has  loved  the  Doctor  for  his  serenity,  his  large 

VOL.   I.  18 


274  DOCTOR  JOHNS, 

justice,  notwithstanding  his  stiffness  and  his  awkward 
gravity ;  but  she  regards  with  new  eyes  the  manly 
grace  of  her  father,  his  easy  self-possession,  his  pli 
ability  of  talk,  his  tender  attention  to  her  comfort,  hi? 
wistful  gaze  at  her,  so  full  of  a  yearning  affection, 
which,  if  the  Doctor  had  ever  felt,  he  had  counted  it  a 
duty  to  conceal.  Nay,  the  daughter,  with  a  womanly 
eye,  took  pride  in  the  aptitude  and  becomingness  of 
his  dress,  —  so  different  from  what  she  had  been  used 
to  see  in  the  clumsy  toilet  of  the  Doctor,  or  of  the 
good-natured  Squire  Elderkin.  Henceforth  she  will 
have  a  new  standard  of  comparison,  to  which  her 
lovers,  if  they  ever  declare  themselves,  must  submit. 

Adele,  enjoying  this  easy  familiarity  with  such  a  pat 
tern  of  manhood,  —  as  she  fondly  imagines  her  father 
to  be,  —  indulges  in  full,  hearty  story  of  her  experi 
ences,  at  school,  with  Miss  Johns,  with  the  Elderkins, 
with  all  those  whom  she  has  learned  to  call  friends. 
And  Maverick  listens,  as  he  never  listened  to  a  grand 
opera  in  the  theater  of  Marseilles. 

"  And  so  you  have  stolen  a  march  upon  them  all, 
Adele  ?  I  suppose  they  have  n't  a  hint  of  the  person 
you  were  to  meet  ?  " 

"  All,  —  at  least  nearly  all,  dear  papa ;  there  was 
only  good  Madame  Aries,  to  whom  I  could  not  help 
saying  that  I  was  coming  to  see  you." 

A  shade  passed  over  the  face  of  Maverick,  which  it 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  275 

required  all  his  self-possession  to  conceal  from  the 
quick  eye  of  his  daughter. 

"  And  who,  pray,  is  this  Madame  Aries,  Adele  ?  " 

"  Oh,  a  good  creature  !  She  has  taught  me  French  ; 
no  proper  teaching,  to  be  sure ;  but  in  my  talk  with 
her,  all  the  old  idioms  have  come  back  to  me  :  at  least, 
I  hope  so." 

And  she  rattles  on  in  French  speech,  explaining 
how  it  was,  —  how  they  walked  together  in  those 
sunny  noontides  at  Ashfield;  and  taking  a  girlish  pride 
in  the  easy  adaptation  of  her  language  to  forms  which 
her  father  must  know  so  well,  she  rounds  off  a  little 
torrent  of  swift  narrative  with  a  piquant,  coquettish  look, 
and  says,  — 

"  N'est  ce  pas,  quefy  suis,  mon  pere  ?  " 

"  Pctrfattement,  ma  chere"  says  the  father,  and  drops 
an  admiring  kiss  upon  the  glowing  cheeks  of  Adele. 

But  the  shade  of  anxiety  has  not  passed  from  the 
face  of  Maverick. 

"  This  Madame  Aries,  Adele,  —  has  she  been  long 
in  the  country  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  papa ;  yet  it  must  be  some  years ; 
she  speaks  English  passably  well." 

"  And  she  has  told  you,  I  suppose,  very  much  about 
the  people  among  whom  you  were  born,  Adele  ?  " 

"  Not  much,  papa, —  and  never  any  thing  about  her 
self  or  her  history  ;  yet  I  have  been  so  curious !  " 


276  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

"  Don't  be  too  curious,  petite  ;  you  might  learn  only 
Df  badness." 

"  Not  badness,  I  am  very,  very  sure,  papa  !  " 

Adele  is  sitting  on  the  arm  of  his  chair,  fondling 
those  sparse  locks  of  his,  sprinkled  with  gray.  It  is  a 
wholly  new  sensation  for  him ;  charming,  doubtless  ; 
but  even  under  the  caresses  of  this  daughter,  of  whom 
he  has  reason  to  be  proud,  anxious  thoughts  crowd 
upon  him.  Are  not  our  deepest  loves  measured,  after 
all,  by  the  depth  of  the  accompanying  solicitude  ? 

The  Doctor  is  met  very  warmly  by  Maverick,  and 
feels  something  like  a  revival  of  the  glow  of  his  youth 
ful  days  as  he  takes  his  hand ;  and  yet  they  are  wider 
apart  by  far  than  when  they  met  in  the  lifetime  of 
Rachel.  Both  feel  it ;  they  have  traveled  widely  di 
vergent  roads,  these  last  twenty  years.  The  Doctor 
is  satisfied  by  the  bearing  and  talk  of  Maverick  (what 
ever  kindness  may  lie  in  it)  that  his  worldliness  is  more 
engrossing  and  decided  than  ever.  And  Maverick,  on 
his  part,  scrutinizing  carelessly,  but  unerringly,  that 
embarassed  country  manner  of  the  parson's,  that  stark 
linen  in  which  he  is  arrayed  by  the  foresight  of  the 
spinster  sister,  and  the  constraint  of  his  speech,  is  sure 
that  his  old  friend  more  than  ever  bounds  his  thought 
by  the  duties  of  his  sacred  office. 

The  Doctor  is,  moreover,  sadly  out  of  place  in  that 
little  parlor  of  the  hotel,  looking  out  upon  Broadway ; 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  277 

there  is  no  adaptiveness  in  his  nature  :  he  comes  out 
from  the  little  world  of  his  study,  where  Tillotson  and 
Poole  and  Newton  have  been  his  companions,  athwart 
the  roar  of  the  city  street  which  sounds  in  his  ear  like 
an  echo  of  the  murmurs  of  Pandemonium.  Under 
these  circumstances  he  scarce  dares  to  expostulate  so 
boldly  as  he  would  wish  with  Maverick  upon  the  world- 
liness  of  his  career ;  it  would  seem  like  bearding  the 
lion  in  his  own  den.  Nor,  indeed,  does  Maverick  pro 
voke  such  expostulation  ;  he  is  so  considerate  of  the 
Doctor's  feelings,  so  grateful  for  his  attentions  to  Adele, 
so  religiously  disposed  (it  must  be  said)  in  all  that  con 
cerns  the  daughter's  education  and  future,  and  waives 
the  Doctor's  personal  advices  with  so  kind  and  easy  a 
grace,  that  the  poor  parson  despairs  of  reaching  him 
with  the  point  of  the  sword  of  Divine  truth. 

"  My  good  friend,"  says  Maverick,  "  you  have  been  a 
father  to  my  child,  —  a  better  one  than  I  have  made, 
—  I  wish  I  could  repay  you." 

The  Doctor  bows  stiffly ;  he  has  lost  the  familiarity 
which  at  their  last  interview  had  lingered  from  their 
boyish  days  at  college. 

"I  suppose  that  under  your  teaching,"  continues 
Maverick,  u  she  is  so  fixed  in  the  New  England  faith 
of  our  fathers,  that  she  might  be  trusted  now  even  to 
my  bad  guidance." 

"I  have  tried  to  do  my  duty,  Maverick.     I  could 


278  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

have  wished  to  see  more  of  self-abasement  in  her, 
and  a  clearer  acceptance  of  the  doctrine  we  are  called 
upon  to  teach." 

"  But  she  has  been  constant  in  the  performance 
of  all  the  duties  you  have  enjoined,  has  n't  she,  Doc 
tor  ?  " 

"  Entirely  so,  —  entirely ;  but,  my  friend,  our  poor 
worldly  efforts  at  duty  do  not  always  call  down  the 
gift  of  Grace." 

"  By  Jove,  Doctor,  but  that  seems  hard  doctrine." 

"  Hard  to  carnal  minds,  Maverick ;  but  the  evi 
dences  are  abundant  that  justification  "  — 

"  Nay,  nay,"  said  Maverick,  interrupting  him ;  "  you 
know  I  'm  not  strong  in  theology ;  I  don't  want  to 
be  put  hors  du  combat  by  you  ;  I  know  I  should  be. 
But  about  that  little  affair  of  the  rosary,  —  no  harm 
came  of  it,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  None,  1  believe,"  said  the  Doctor  ;  "  but  I  must 
not  conceal  from  you,  Maverick,  that  a  late  teacher 
of  hers,  to  whom,  unfortunately,  she  seems  very  much 
attached,  is  strongly  wedded  to  the  iniquities  of  the 
Eomish  Church." 

"  That  would  seem  a  very  awkward  risk  to  take, 
Doctor,"  said  Maverick,  with  more  of  seriousness  than 
he  had  yet  shown. 

"  A  risk,  certainly  ;  but  I  took  the  precaution  of 
warning  Madame  Aries,  who  is  the  party  in  question, 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  279 

against  any  conversation   with   Adaly   upon   religious 
subjects." 

"  And  you  ventured  to  trust  her  ?  Upon  my  word, 
Johns,  you  give  me  a  lesson  in  faith.  I  should  have" 
been  more  severe  than  you.  I  would  n't  have  ad 
mitted  such  intercourse ;  and,  my  good  friend,  if  I 
should  ask  permission  to  reinstate  Adele  in  your  house 
hold  for  a  time,  promise  me  that  all  intercourse  with 
Madame  Aries  shall  be  cut  off.  I  know  Frenchwomen 
better  than  you,  my  friend." 

The  Doctor  assured  him  that  he  would  do  as  he 
desired,  and  would  be  glad  to  have  the  father's  au 
thority  for  the  interruption  of  an  intercourse  which 
had  almost  the  proportions  of  a  tender  friendship. 

Maverick  was  thoughtful  for  a  moment. 

"  Well,  yes,  Doctor,  be  gentle  —  I  know  you  are 
always — with  the  dear  girl;  but  if  there  be  any  de 
mur  on  her  part,  pray  give  her  to  understand  that 
what  you  will  ask  in  this  respect  has  my  express  sanc 
tion.  If  I  know  myself,  Johns,  there  is  no  object  I 
have  so  near  at  heart  as  the  happiness  of  my  child  ; 
not  alone  now ;  but  in  her  future,  I  hope  to  God 
(I  speak  reverently,  Doctor)  that  she  may  have  im 
munity  from  suffering  of  whatever  kind.  I  wish 
wealth  could  buy  it ;  but  it  can't.  Mind  the  promise, 
Johns  ;  keep  her  away  from  this  Frenchwoman." 

The  Brindlocks,  of  course,  with  whom  the  Doctor 


DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

was  quartered  during  his  stay,  took  an  early  occasion 
to  show  civilities  to  Mr.  Maverick  and  his  daughter; 
and  Mrs.  Brindlock  kindly  offered  her  services  to 
Adele  in  negotiating  such  additions  to  her  wardrobe 
as  the  proud  father  insisted  upon  her  making ;  and 
in  the  necessary  excursions  up  and  down  the  city, 
Reuben,  by  the  pleasant  devices  of  Mrs.  Brindlock, 
was  an  almost  constant  out-of-door  attendant. 

He  was  no  longer  the  shy  boy  Adele  had  at  first 
encountered.  Nay,  grown  bold  by  his  city  experiences, 
he  was  disposed  to  assume  a  somewhat  patronizing  air 
toward  the  bright-eyed  country-girl  who  was  just  now 
equipping  herself  for  somewhat  larger  contact  with 
the  world.  Adele  did  not  openly  resent  the  proffered 
patronage,  but,  on  the  contrary,  accepted  it  with  an 
excess  of  grateful  expressions,  whose  piquant  irony, 
for  two  whole  days,  Reuben,  with  his  blunter  percep 
tions,  never  suspected.  "What  boy  of  eighteen  is  a 
match  for  a  girl  of  sixteen  ?  Patronize,  indeed  !  But 
suspicion  came  at  last,  and  full  knowledge  broke  upon 
him  under  a  musical  little  laugh  of  Adelc's,  (half 
smothered  in  her  kerchief,)  when  the  gallant  young 
man  had  blundered  into  some  idle  compliment.  The 
instinct  of  girls  in  matters  of  this  sort  is  marvelously 
quick. 

But  if  the  laugh  of  Adele  cured  Reuben  of  his 
patronage,  it  did  not  cure  him  of  thought  about  her. 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  281 

It  kindled  a  new  train,  indeed,  of  whose  drift  he  was 
himself  unconscious. 

"  Is  n't  she  pretty  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Brindlock,  on  a  cer 
tain  occasion,  upon  their  return  from  one  of  the  ex 
cursions  named. 

"  Oh,  so,  so  !  "  said  Reuben. 

"  But  I  think  she  's  perfectly  charming,"  said  Mrs. 
Brindlock. 

"  Pho,  Aunt  Mabel !  I  could  name  ten  girls  as 
pretty." 

And  he  could.  But  this  did  not  forbid  his  accept 
ing  his  Aunt  Mabel's  invitation  for  the  next  day's 
shopping. 

He  is  not  altogether  the  same  lad  we  saw  upon  the 
deck  of  the  Princess,  under  Captain  Saul.  He  would 
hardly  sail  for  China  now  in  a  tasseled  cap.  He 
never  will,  —  this  much  we  can  say,  at  least,  without 
anticipating  the  burden  of  our  story. 


XXXIV. 

T)  EUBEN  has  in  many  respects  vastly  improved 
L^  under  his  city  education.  It  would  be  wrong  to 
say  that  the  good  Doctor  did  not  take  a  very  human 
pride  in  his  increased  alertness  of  mind,  in  his  vivacity, 
in  his  self-possession,  —  nay,  even  in  that  very  air  of 
world-acquaintance  which  now  covered  entirely  the  old 
homely  manner  of  the  country  lad.  He  thought 
within  himself,  what  a  glad  smile  of  triumph  would 
have  been  kindled  upon  the  face  of  the  lost  Rachel, 
could  she  but  have  seen  this  tall  youth  with  his  kindly 
attentions  and  his  graceful  speech.  May  be  she  did 
see  it  all,  —  but  with  far  other  eyes,  now.  Was  the 
child  ripening  into  fellowship  with  the  sainted  mother  ? 
The  Doctor  underneath  all  his  pride  carried  a  great 
deal  of  anxious  doubt ;  and  as  he  walked  beside  his  boy 
upon  the  thronged  street,  elated  in  some  strange  way 
by  the  touch  of  that  strong  arm  of  the  youth,  whose 
blood  was  his  own,  —  so  dearly  his  own,  —  he  pondered 
gravely  with  himself,  if  the  mocking  delusions  of  the 
Evil  One  were  not  the  occasion  of  his  pride  ?  Was 
not  Satan  setting  himself  artfully  to  the  work  of  quiet 
ing  all  sense  of  responsibility  in  regard  to  the  lad's 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  283 

future,  by  thus  kindling  in  his  old  heart  anew  the  van 
ities  of  the  flesh  and  the  pride  of  life  ? 

"  I  say,  father,  I  want  to  put  you  through  now.  It  '11 
do  you  a  great  deal  of  good  to  see  some  of  our  wonders 
here  in  the  city." 

"  The  very  voice,  —  the  very  voice  of  Rachel !  "  says 
the  Doctor  to  himself,  quickening  his  laggard  step  to 
keep  pace  with  Reuben. 

"  There  are  such  lots  of  things  to  show  you,  father  ! 
Look  in  this  store,  now.  You  can  step  in,  if  you  like. 
It 's  the  largest  carpet-store  in  the  United  States,  — 
three  stories  packed  full.  There  's  the  head  man  of  the 
firm,  —  the  stout  man  in  a  white  choker ;  with  half  a 
million,  they  say :  he  's  a  deacon  in  Mowry's  Church." 

"  I  hope,  Reuben,  that  he  makes  a  worthy  use  of  his 
wealth." 

"  Oh,  he  gives  thunderingly  to  the  missionary  socie 
ties,"  said  Reuben,  with  a  glibness  that  grated  on  the 
father's  ear. 

"  You  see  that  building  yonder  ?  That 's  Gothic. 
They  've  got  the  finest  bowling-alleys  in  the  world 
there." 

"  I  hope,  my  son,  you  never  go  to  such  places  ?  " 

"  Bowl  ?  Oh,  yes,  I  bowl  sometimes  :  the  physicians 
recommend  it ;  good  exercise  for  the  chest.  Besides, 
it's  kept  by  a  fine  man,  and  he  's  got  one  of  the  pret 
tiest  little  trotting  horses  you  ever  saw  in  your  life." 


284  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

"  Why,  my  son,  you  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  you 
know  the  keeper  of  this  bowling-alley  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  father,  —  we  fellows  all  know  him  ;  and  he 
gave  me  a  splendid  cigar  the  last  time  I  was  there." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  smoke,  Reuben  ?  " 
said  the  old  gentleman,  gravely. 

"  Not  much,  father  :  but  then,  every  body  smokes  now 
and  then.  Mowry  —  Dr.  Mowry  smokes,  you  know ; 
and  they  say  he  has  prime  cigars." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?     Well,  well !  " 

"  You  see  that  fine  building  over  there  ?  "  said  Reu 
ben,  as  they  passed  on. 

"  Yes,  my  son." 

" That's  the  theater,  —  the  Old  Park." 

The  Doctor  ran  his  eye  over  it,  and  its  effigy  of 
Shakspeare  upon  the  niche  in  the  wall,  as  Gabriel  might 
have  looked  upon  the  armor  of  Beelzebub. 

"  I  hope,  Reuben,  you  never  enter  those  doors  ?  " 

"  Well,  father,  since  Kean  and  Mathews  are  gone, 
there 's  really  nothing  worth  the  seeing." 

"  Kean !  Mathews  !  "  said  the  Doctor,  stopping  in  his 
walk  and  confronting  Reuben  with  a  stern  brow,  —  "  is 
it  possible,  my  son,  that  I  hear  you  talking  in  this  famil 
iar  way  of  play-actors  ?  You  don't  tell  me  that  you 
have  been  a  participant  in  such  orgies  of  Satan  ?  " 

"  Why,  father  ! "  said  Reuben,  a  little  startled  by  the 
Doctor's  earnestness,  the  truth  is,  Aunt  Mabel  goes 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  285 

occasionally,  like  'most  all  the  ladies ;  but  we  go,  you 
know,  to  see  the  moral  pieces,  generally." 

"  Moral  pieces  !  "  said  the  Doctor,  with  a  withering 
scowl.  "  Reuben  !  those  who  go  thither  take  hold  on 
the  door-posts  of  hell ! " 

"  That 's  the  Tract  Society  building  yonder,"  said 
Reuben,  wishing  to  divert  the  Doctor,  if  possible,  from 
the  special  objects  of  his  reflections. 

"  Rachel's  voice !  —  always  Rachel's  voice  !  "  —  said 
the  Doctor  to  himself. 

"  Would  you  like  to  go  in,  father  ?  " 

"  No,  my  son,  we  have  no  time  ;  and  yet "  —  meditat 
ing,  and  thrusting  his  hand  in  his  pocket  —  "  there  is  a 
tract  or  two  I  would  like  to  buy  for  you,  Reuben." 

"  Go  in,  then,"  says  Reuben.  "  Let  me  tell  them 
who  you  are,  father,  and  you  can  get  them  at  wholesale 
prices.  It 's  the  merest  song." 

"  No,  my  son,  no,"  said  the  Doctor,  disheartened  by 
the  blithe  air  of  Reuben.  "  I  fear  it  would  be  wasted 
effort.  Yet  I  trust  that  you  do  not  wholly  neglect  the 
opportunities  for  religious  instruction  on  the  Sab 
bath?" 

"  Oh,  no,"  says  Reuben,  gayly.  "  I  see  Dr.  Mowry 
off  and  on.  pretty  often.  He 's  a  clever  old  gentleman, 
—  Dr.  Mowry." 

Clever  old  gentleman  ! 

The  Doctor  walked  on,  oppressed  with  grief,  —  silent, 


286  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

but  with  lips  moving  in  prayer,  —  beseeching  God  to 
take  away  the  stony  heart  from  this  poor  child  of  his, 
and  to  give  him  a  heart  of  flesh. 

Reuben  had  improved,  as  we  said,  by  his  New  York 
schooling.  He  was  quick  of  apprehension,  well  in 
formed  ;  and  his  familiarity  with  the  counting-room  of 
Mr.  Brindlock  had  given  him  a  business  promptitude 
that  was  specially  agreeable  to  the  Doctor,  whose  habits 
in  that  regard  were  of  woful  slackness.  But  religiously, 
the  good  man  looked  upon  his  son  as  a  castaway.  It 
was  only  too  apparent  that  Reuben  had  not  derived  the 
desired  improvement  from  attendance  at  the  Fulton- 
Street  Church.  That  attendance  had  been  punctual, 
indeed,  for  nearly  all  the  first  year  of  his  city  life,  in 
virtue  of  the  inexorable  habit  of  his  education  ;  but  Dr. 
Mowry  had  not  won  upon  him  by  any  personal  mag 
netism.  The  city  Doctor  was  a  ponderously  good  man, 
preaching  for  the  most  part  ponderous  sermons,  and 
possessed  of  a  most  imposing  friendliness  of  manner. 
When  Reuben  had  presented  to  him  the  credentials 
from  his  father,  (which  he  could  hardly  have  done, 
save  for  the  urgency  of  the  Brindlocks,)  the  ponderous 
Doctor  had  patted  him  upon  the  shoulder,  and  said,  — 

"  My  young  friend,  your  father  is  a  most  worthy  man, 
—  most  worthy.  I  should  be  delighted  to  see  you  fol 
lowing  in  his  steps.  I  shall  be  most  glad  to  be  of  ser 
vice  to  you.  Our  meetings  for  Bible  instruction  are  on 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  287 

Wednesdays,  at  seven :  the  young  men  upon  the  left, 
the  young  ladies  on  the  right. 

The  Doctor  appeared  to  Reuben  a  man  solemnly 
preoccupied  with  the  immensity  of  his  charge ;  and  it 
seemed  to  him  (though  it  was  doubtless  a  wicked 
thought  of  the  boy)  that  the  ponderous  minister  would 
have  counted  it  a  matter  of  far  smaller  merit  to  in 
struct,  and  guide,  and  save  a  wanderer  from  the  coun 
try,  than  to  perform  the  same  offices  for  a  good  fat  sin 
ner  of  the  city. 

As  we  have  said,  the  memory  of  old  teachings,  for  a 
year  or  more,  made  any  divergence  from  the  severe 
path  of  boyhood  seem  to  Reuben  a  sin  ;  and  these  di 
vergencies  so  multiplied  by  easy  accessions  as  to  have 
made  him,  after  a  time,  look  upon  himself  very  confi 
dently,  and  almost  cheerily,  as  a  reprobate.  And  if  a 
reprobate,  why  not  taste  the  Devil's  cup  to  the  full  ? 

That  first  visit  to  the  theater  was  like  a  bold  push 
into  the  very  domain  of  Satan.  Even  the  ticket-seller 
at  the  door  seemed  to  him  on  that  eventful  night  an 
understrapper  of  Beelzebub,  who  looked  out  at  him 
with  the  goggle  eyes  of  a  demon.  That  such  a  man 
could  have  a  family,  or  family  affections,  or  friendships, 
or  any  sense  of  duty  or  honor,  was  to  him  a  thing  in 
comprehensible  ;  and  when  he  passed  the  wicket  for 
the  first  time  into  the  vestibule  of  the  old  Park  Thea 
ter,  the  very  usher  in  the  corridor  had  to  his  eye  a 


288  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

look  like  the  Giant  Dagon,  and  he  conceived  of  him  as 
mumbling,  in  his  leisure  moments,  the  flesh  from  hu 
man  bones.  And  when  at  last  the  curtain  rose,  and 
the  damp  air  came  out  upon  him  from  behind  the 
scenes  as  he  sat  in  the  pit,  and  the  play  began  with 
some  wonderful  creature  in  tight  bodice  and  painted 
cheeks,  sailing  across  the  stage,  it  seemed  to  him  that 
the  flames  of  Divine  wrath  might  presently  be  bursting 
out  over  the  house,  or  a  great  judgment  of  God  break 
down  the  roof  and  destroy  them  all. 

But  it  did  not ;  and  he  took  courage.  It  is  so  easy 
to  find  courage  in  those  battles  where  we  take  no 
bodily  harm  !  If  conscience,  sharpened  by  the  severe 
discipline  he  had  known,  pricked  him  awkwardly  at 
the  first,  he  bore  the  stings  with  a  good  deal  of  sturdi- 
ness.  A  sinner,  no  doubt,  —  that  he  knew  long  ago  : 
a  little  slip,  or  indeed  no  slip  at  all,  had  ranked  him 
with  the  unregenerate.  Once  a  sinner,  (thus  he  pleas 
antly  reasoned,)  and  a  fellow  may  as  well  be  ten  times 
a  sinner :  a  bad  job  anyhow.  If  in  his  moments  of 
reflection  —  these  being  not  yet  wholly  crowded  out 
from  his  life  —  there  comes  a  shadowy  hope  of  better 
things,  of  some  moral  poise  that  should  be  in  keeping 
with  the  tenderer  recollections  of  his  boyhood,  —  all 
this  can  never  come,  (he  bethinks  himself,  in  view  of 
his  old  teaching,)  except  on  the  heel  of  some  terrible 
conviction  of  sin  ;  and  the  conviction  will  hardly  come 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  289 

without  some  deeper  and  more  damning  weight  of  it 
than  he  feels  as  yet.  A  heavy  cumulation  of  the 
weight  may  some  day  serve  him  a  good  turn.  Thus 
the  Devil  twists  his  vague  yearning  for  a  condition 
of  spiritual  repose  into  a  pleasantly  smacking  lash 
with  which  to  scourge  his  grosser  appetites ;  so  that, 
upon  the  whole,  Reuben  drives  a  fine,  showy  team 
along  the  high-road  of  indulgence. 

Yet  the  minister's  son  had  no  love  for  gross  vices ; 
there  were  human  instincts  in  him  (if  it  may  be  said) 
that  rebelled  against  his  more  deliberate  sinnings. 
Nay,  he  affected  with  his  boon  companions  an  enjoy 
ment  of  wanton  excesses  that  he  only  half  felt.  A 
certain  adventurous,  dare-devil  reach  in  him  craved 
exercise.  The  character  of  Reuben  at  this  stage  would 
surely  have  offered  a  good  subject  for  the  study  and  the 
handling  of  Dr.  Mowry,  if  that  worthy  gentleman 
could  have  won  his  way  to  the  lad's  confidence ;  but 
the  ponderous  methods  of  the  city  parson  showed  no 
fineness  of  touch.  Even  the  father,  as  we  have  seen, 
could  not  reach  down  to  any  religious  convictions  of 
the  son  ;  and  Reuben  keeps  him  at  bay  with  a  banter, 
and  an  exaggerated  attention  to  the  personal  comforts 
of  the  old  gentleman,  that  utterly  baffle  him.  Reuben 
holds  too  much  in  dread  the  old  catechismal  dogmas 
and  the  ultimate  "  anathema  maran-atha." 

VOL.    I.  19 


290  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

So  it  was  with  a  profound  sigh  that  the  father  bade 

his  son  adieu  after  this  city  visit. 

"  Good-by,  father !     Love  to  them  all  in  Ashfield." 
So  like  Rachel's  voice  !     So  like  Rachel's  !     And  the 

heart  of  the  old  man  yearned  toward  him  and  ached 

bitterly  for  him.     "  0  my  son  Absalom  !  my  son !  my 

son  Absalom  !  " 


XXXV. 

MAVERICK  hurried  his  departure  from  the  city ; 
and  Adele,  writing  to  Rose  to  announce  the  pro 
gramme  of  her  journey,  says  only  this  much  of  Reu 
ben  :  —  "  We  have  of  course  seen  R ,  who  was 

very  attentive  and  kind.  He  has  grown  tall,  —  taller, 
I  should  think,  than  Phil ;  and  he  is  quite  well-looking, 
and  gentlemanly.  I  think  he  has  a  very  good  opinion 
of  himself." 

The  summer's  travel  offered  a  season  of  rare  enjoy 
ment  to  Adcle.  The  lively  sentiment  of  girlhood  was 
not  yet  wholly  gone,  and  the  thoughtfulness  of  woman 
hood  was  just  beginning  to  tone,  without  controlling, 
her  sensibilities.  The  delicate  attentions  of  Maverick 
were  more  like  those  of  a  lover  than  of  a  father. 
Through  his  ever-watchful  eyes,  Adele  looked  upon  the 
beauties  of  Nature  with  a  new  halo  on  them.  How 
the  water  sparkled  to  her  vision  !  How  the  days  came 
and  went  like  golden  dreams  ! 

Ah,  happy  youth-time  !  The  Hudson,  Lake  George, 
Saratoga,  the  Mountains,  the  Beach,  —  to  us  old  sta 
gers,  who  have  breasted  the  tide  of  so  many  years,  and 


292  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

flung  off  long  ago  all  the  iridescent  sparkles  of  our 
sentiment,  these  are  only  names  of  summer  thronging- 
places.  Upon  the  river  we  watch  the  growth  of  the 
crops,  or  ask  our  neighbors  about  the  cost  of  our  friend 
Faro's  new  country-seat ;  we  lounge  upon  the  piazzas 
of  the  hotels,  reading  price-lists,  or  (if  not  too  old)  an 
editorial ;  we  complain  of  the  windy  currents  upon  the 
lake,  and  find  our  chiefest  pleasure  in  a  trout  boiled 
plain,  with  a  dressing  of  champagne  sauce  ;  we  linger 
at  Fabian's  on  a  sunny  porch,  talking  politics  with  a 
rheumatic  old  gentleman  in  his  overcoat,  while  the 
youngest  go  ambling  through  the  fir  woods  and  up  the 
mountains  with  shouts  and  laughter.  Yet  it  was  not 
always  thus.  There  were  times  in  the  lives  of  us  old 
travelers — let  us  say  from  sixteen  to  twenty  —  when 
the  great  river  was  a  glorious  legend  trailing  its  storied 
length  through  the  Highlands ;  when  in  every  opening 
valley  there  lay  purple  shadows  whereon  we  painted 
castles:  when  the  corridors  and  shaded  walks  of  the 
"  United  States "  were  like  a  fairy  land,  with  flitting 
skirts  and  waving  plumes,  and  some  delicately  gloved 
hand  beating  its  reveille  upon  the  heart ;  and  when 
every  floating  film  of  the  mist  along  the  sea,  whether 
at  Newport  or  Nahant,  tenderly  entreated  the  fancy. 

But  we  forget  ourselves,  and  we  forget  Adele.  In 
her  wild  exuberance  of  joy  Maverick  shares  with  a 
spirit  that  he  had  believed  to  be  dead  in  him  utterly. 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  293 

And  if  he  finds  it  necessary  to  check  from  time  to  time 
the  noisy  effervescence  of  her  pleasure,  as  he  certainly 
does  at  the  first,  he  does  it  in  the  most  tender  and  con 
siderate  way ;  and  Adele  learns,  what  many  of  her 
warm-hearted  sisters  never  do  learn,  that  a  well-bred 
control  over  our  enthusiasms  in  no  way  diminishes  the 
exquisiteness  of  their  savor. 

Maverick  should  be  something  over  fifty  now,  and  his 
keenness  of  observation  in  respect  to  feminine  charms 
is  not  perhaps  so  great  as  it  once  was  ;  but  even  he  can 
not  fail  to  see,  with  a  pride  that  he  makes  no  great  ef 
fort  to  conceal,  the  admiring  looks  that  follow  the  lithe, 
graceful  figure  of  Adele,  wherever  their  journey  may 
lead  them.  Nor,  indeed,  were  there  any  more  comely 
toilets  for  a  young  girl  to  be  met  with  anywhere  than 
those  which  had  been  provided  for  the  young  traveler 
under  the  advice  of  Mrs  Brindlock. 

It  may  be  true  —  what  his  friend  Papiol  had  pre 
dicted  —  that  Maverick  will  be  too  proud  of  his  child  to 
keep  her  in  a  secluded  corner  of  New  England.  For 
his  pride  there  is  certainly  abundant  reason ;  and  what 
father  does  not  love  to  see  the  child  of  whom  he  is 
proud  admired  ? 

Yet  weeks  had  run  by,  and  Maverick  had  never  once 
broached  the  question  of  a  return.  The  truth  was,  that 
the  new  experience  was  so  charming  and  so  engrossing 
for  him,  the  sweet,  intelligent  face  ever  at  his  side  was 


294  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

so  full  of  eager  wonder,  and  he  so  delightfully  intent 
upon  providing  new  sources  of  pleasure,  and  calling  out 
again  and  again  the  gushes  of  her  girlish  enthusiasm, 
that  he  shrunk  instinctively  from  a  decision  in  which 
must  be  involved  so  largely  her  future  happiness. 

At  last  it  was  Adele  herself  who  suggested  the  in 
quiry,  — 

"  Is  it  true,  dear  papa,  what  the  Doctor  tells  me, 
that  you  may  possibly  take  me  back  to  France  with 
you?" 

"  What  say  you,  Adele  ?     Would  you  like  to  go  ?  " 

"  Dearly ! " 

"  But,"  said  Maverick,  "  your  friends  here,  —  can  you 
so  easily  cast  them  away  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  no  !  "  said  Adele,  —  "  not  cast  them  away  ! 
Could  n't  I  come  again  some  day?  Besides,  there  is 
your  home,  papa  ;  I  should  love  any  home  of  yours,  and 
love  your  friends." 

"  For  instance,  Adele,  there  is  my  book-keeper,  a 
lean  Savoyard,  who  wears  a  red  wig  and  spectacles,  — 
and  Lucille,  a  great,  gaunt  woman,  with  a  golden  cruci 
fix  about  her  neck,  who  keeps  my  little  parlor  in  order, 
—  and  Papiol,  a  fat  Frenchman,  with  a  bristly  mus<- 
tache  and  iron-gray  hair,  who,  I  dare  say,  would  want 
to  kiss  the  pet  of  his  dear  friend,  —  and  Jeannette,  who 
washes  the  dishes  for  us,  and  wears  great  wooden  sa 
bots  "  — 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  295 

"  Nonsense,  papa !  I  am  sure  you  have  other 
friends  ;  and  then  there  's  the  good  godmother." 

"  Ah,  yes,  —  she  indeed,"  said  Maverick  ;  u  what  a 
precious  hug  she  would  give  you,  Adele  ! " 

"  And  then  —  and  then  —  should  I  see  mamma  ?  " 

The  pleasant  humor  died  out  of  the  face  of  Maver 
ick  on  the  instant;  and  then,  in  a  slow,  measured 
tone,  — 

"  Impossible,  Adele,  —  impossible  !  Come  here,  dar 
ling  !  "  and  as  he  fondled  her  in  a  wild,  passionate  way, 
"  I  will  love  you  for  both,  Adele ;  she  was  not  worthy 
of  you,  child." 

Adele,  too,  is  overcome  with  a  sudden  seriousness. 

"  Is  she  living,  papa  ?  "  And  she  gives  him  an  ap 
pealing  look  that  must  be  answered. 

And  Maverick  seems  somehow  appalled  by  that  inno 
cent,  confiding  expression  of  hers. 

"May  be,  may  be,  my  darling;  she  was  living  not 
long  since  ;  yet  it  can  never  matter  to  you  or  me  more. 
You  will  trust  me  in  this,  Adele  ?  "  And  he  kisses  her 
tenderly. 

And  she,  returning  the  caress,  but  bursting  into  tears 
as  she  does  so,  says,  — 

"  I  will,  I  do,  papa." 

"  There,  there,  darling  !  "  —  as  he  folds  her  to  him  ; 
"  no  more  tears,  —  no  more  tears,  cherie  !  " 

But  even  while  he  says  it,  he  is  nervously  searching 


296  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

his  pockets,  since  there  is  a  little  dew  that  must  be 
wiped  from  his  own  eyes.  Maverick's  emotion,  how 
ever,  was  but  a  little  momentary  contagious  sympathy 
with  the  daughter,  —  he  having  no  understanding  of 
that  unsatisfied  yearning  in  her  heart  of  which  this 
sudden  tumult  of  feeling  was  the  passionate  out 
break. 

Meantime  Adele  is  not  without  her  little  mementos 
of  the  life  at  Ashfield,  which  come  in  the  shape  of  thick 
double  letters  from  that  good  girl  Rose,  —  her  dear, 
dear  friend,  who  has  been  advised  by  the  little  traveler 
to  what  towns  she  should  direct  these  tender  missives ; 
and  Adele  is  no  sooner  arrived  at  these  postal  stations 
than  she  sends  for  the  budget  which  she  knows  must  be 
waiting  for  her.  And  of  course  she  has  her  own  little 
pen  in  a  certain  traveling-escritoire  the  good  papa 
has  given  her ;  and  she  plies  her  white  fingers  with  it 
often  and  often  of  an  evening,  after  the  day's  sight-see 
ing  is  over,  to  tell  Rose  in  return  what  a  charming 
journey  she  is  having,  and  how  kind  papa  is,  and  what 
a  world  of  strange  things  she  is  seeing ;  and  there  are 
descriptions  of  sunsets  and  sunrises,  and  of  lakes  and 
of  mountains,  on  those  close-written  sheets  of  hers, 
which  Rose,  in  her  enthusiasm,  declares  to  be  equal  to 
many  descriptions  in  print.  We  dare  say  they  were 
better  than  a  great  many  such. 

Poor  Rose  feels  that  she   has   only  very  humdrum 


DOCTOR  JOHNS.  297 

stories  to  tell  in  return  for  these  ;  but  she  ekes  out  her 
letters  pretty  well,  after  all,  and  what  they  lack  in  nov 
elty  is  made  up  in  affection. 

l-  There  is  really  nothing  new  to  tell,"  she  writes, 
"  except  it  be  that  our  old  friend,  Miss  Almira  Tourte- 
lot.  astonished  us  all  with  a  new  bonnet  last  Sunday,  and 
with  new  saffron  ribbons ;  and  she  has  come  out,  too, 
in  the  new  tight  sleeves,  in  which  she  looks  drolly 
enough.  Phil  is  very  uneasy,  now  that  his  schooling  is 
done,  and  talks  of  going  to  the  West  Indies  about  some 
business  in  which  papa  is  concerned.  I  hope  he  will 
go,  if  he  does  n't  stay  too  long.  He  is  such  a  dear,  good 
fellow  !  Madame  Aries  asks  after  you,  when  I  see  her, 
which  is  not  very  often  now ;  for  since  the  Doctor  has 
come  back  from  New  York,  he  has  had  a  new  talk  with 
mamma,  and  has  quite  won  her  over  to  his  view  of 
the  matter.  So  good-by  to  French  for  the  present! 
Heigho !  But  I  don't  know  that  I  'm  sorry,  now  that 
you  are  not  here,  dear  Ady. 

"  Another  queer  thing  I  had  almost  forgotten  to  tell 
you.  The  poor  Boody  girl,  —  you  must  remember  her  ? 
Well,  she  has  come  back  on  a  sudden  ;  and  they  say 
her  father  would  not  receive  her  in  his  house,  —  there 
are  terrible  stories  about  it !  —  and  now  she  is  living 
with  an  old  woman  far  out  upon  the  river-road,  —  only 
a  little  garret-chamber  for  herself  and  the  child  she 
brought  back  with  her.  Of  course  nobody  goes  near  her, 


298  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

or  looks  at  her,  if  she  comes  on  the  street.  But  —  the 
queerest  thing !  —  when  Madame  Aries  heard  of  it  and 
of  her  story,  what  does  she  do  but  walk  far  out  to  visit 
her,  and  talked  with  her  in  her  broken  English  for  an 
hour,  they  say.  Papa  says  she  (Madame  A.)  must  be 
a  very  bad  woman  or  a  very  good  woman.  Miss  Johns 
says  she  always  thought  she  was  a  bad  woman.  The 
Bowriggs  are,  of  course,  very  indignant,  and  I  doubt  if 
Madame  A.  comes  to  Ashfield  again  with  them." 
And  again,  at  a  later  date,  Rose  writes,  — 
"  The  Bowriggs  are  all  off  for  the  winter,  and  the 
house  closed.  Reuben  has  been  here  on  a  flying  visit 
to  the  parsonage  ;  and  how  proud  Miss  Eliza  was  of 
her  nephew  !  He  came  over  to  see  Phil,  I  suppose  ; 
but  Phil  had  gone  two  weeks  before.  Mamma  thinks 
he  is  fine-looking.  I  fancy  he  will  never  live  in  the 
country  again.  When  shall  I  see  you  again,  dear,  dear 
Ady  ?  I  have  so  much  to  talk  to  you  about ! " 

A  month  thereafter  Maverick  and  his  daughter  find 
their  way  back  to  Ashfield.  Of  course  Miss  Johns  has 
made  magnificent  preparations  to  receive  them.  She 
surpassed  herself  in  her  toilet  on  the  day  of  their  ar 
rival,  and  fairly  astonished  Maverick  with  the  warmth 
of  her  welcome  to  his  child.  Yet  he  could  not  help 
observing  that  Adele  met  it  more  coolly  than  was  her 
wont,  and  that  her  tenderest  words  were  reserved  for 
the  good  Doctor.  And  how  proud  she  was  to  walk  with 


DOCTOR   JOHNS.  299 

her  father  upon  the  village  street,  glancing  timidly  up 
at  the  windows  from  which  she  knew  those  stiff  old 
Miss  Hapgoods  must  be  peeping  out !  How  proud  to 
sit  beside  him  in  the  parson's  pew,  feeling  that  the  eyes 
of  half  the  congregation  were  fastened  on  the  tall  gen 
tleman  beside  her  !  Ah,  happy  daughter  !  may  your 
beautiful  filial  pride  never  have  a  fall ! 

Important  business  letters  command  Maverick's 
early  presence  abroad  ;  and,  after  conference  with  the 
Doctor,  he  decides  to  leave  Adele  once  more  under 
the  roof  of  the  parsonage. 

"  Under  God,  I  will  do  for  her  what  I  can,"  said  the 
Doctor. 

"  I  know  it,  I  know  it,  my  good  friend,"  says  Mav 
erick.  "  Teach  her  self-reliance ;  she  may  need  it 
some  day.  And  mind  what  I  have  said  of  this  French 
woman.  Adele  seems  to  have  a  tendresse  that  way. 
Those  French  women  are  very  insidious,  Johns." 

"  You  know  their  ways  better  than  I,"  said  the  Doc 
tor,  dryly. 

"  Good !  a  smack  of  the  old  college  humor  there, 
Johns.  Well,  well,  at  least  you  don't  doubt  the  sacred- 
ness  of  my  love  for  Adele  ?  " 

"  I  trust,  Maverick,  I  may  never  doubt  the  sacredness 
of  your  love  in  any  direction.  I  only  hope  you  may 
direct  it  where  I  fear  you  do  not" 


300  DOCTOR  JOHNS. 

"  God  bless  you  Johns  !  I  wish  I  were  as  good  a  man 
as  you." 

A  little  afterwards  Maverick  was  humming  a  snatch 
from  an  opera  under  the  trees  of  the  orchard ;  and 
Adele  went  bounding  toward  him,  to  take  the  last  walk 
with  him  for  so  long,  —  so  long  ! 


END   OF    VOLUME   I. 


DATE  DUE 


